More Quidditch
by erbkaiser
Summary: A collection for various short fics for the QLFC Season 4.
1. A Night at the Opera

**A Night at the Opera**

They looked a stately couple, Lucius Malfoy thought, as he walked out of the side-street on to the busy Muggle London sidewalk near the theatre. His clothes cost more than some families spent in a year but it should be worth the effort. The finest cuts fitted to him by London's most expensive tailors, new shoes hand-made by one of the best in the business, and even a new cane carved from rare woods and decorated with rhino horn and ivory.

Narcissa was likewise in her finest dress, which had cost even more than Lucius' attire, and she wore the Malfoy family jewels around her neck. All in all, they looked very much the elite they were, all set to enjoy a night mingling with the upper class.

And then there were their guests. Malfoy groaned as they stumbled onto the sidewalk, having had trouble apparating, apparently. Nott wore a third-rate suit that Malfoy wouldn't even let a disgraced House-Elf wear and as for his wife... with some fantasy that could be called that a dress, he supposed. Compared to the Malfoys they looked like the relative paupers they were, but he had little choice but to let them come along. He needed Nott's support in the Wizengamot and Beatrice, Nott's wife and one of the few people Narcissa seemed to actually enjoy having tea with, had looked excited at the prospect of seeing an actual opera.

"Did you really have to mention the opera in front of _her_?" he whispered to his wife, just before the Notts joined up with them.

Narcissa gave him a smile, saying, "I'm sorry, darling, how could I have guessed she'd tell that husband of hers and that they wanted to come along? Perhaps it won't be as bad as –" Quickly she turned half around, greeting their guests, "Beatrice, Franklin, you both look... lovely."

"Ooh, thanks much, luv, you look enchanting I suppose," Beatrice said in response.

"So where is this opera thing? Shouldn't we get going?" Franklin Nott cut her off.

"Follow us then," Malfoy told him. "It's not far from here. Remember, we are among Muggles now, so watch your words."

As they walked to the Royal Opera House Malfoy could hear Nott grumbling about the whole thing and he couldn't help but wonder why Nott had wanted to come along with them. Sure, they were Muggles and therefore by definition inferior to proper Wizards, but there was no opera in _their_ world so an occasional journey to the other side was acceptable, surely?

As they waited in line to enter the building Malfoy started to feel better again. He could see the envious gazes at his wife from some of the other men and he also saw some of the women glance at him. They looked amazing, and they both knew it. He squeezed Narcissa's hand and she shot him a loving smile back. Finally their tickets were checked and the four wizards made their way to their private box on the balcony.

"What are we going to see again?" Nott asked, his loud voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

Malfoy started to explain, "It's called _Die Zauberflöte_ , a so-called _Singspiel_ by –"

"What is that? Danish?" Nott cut him off.

Annoyed, Malfoy cut back, "German, you illiterate imbe–" Narcissa placed her hand on his arm, and he trailed off. "It's considered one of the all-time greatest operas, by the Muggle composer Mozart. The title translates to _'The Magic Flute'_."

Nott asked again, "Magic? But what about the Statute of –"

"Hush, it's about to begin," Malfoy countered. As the lights went dim so only the stage was in view he leaned forward, intent on enjoying the opera to its fullest.

The handsome prince Tamino was fleeing from a serpent, only to be saved by three mysterious ladies. But after they left to tell their mistress who they had found, the strangely dressed Papageno was the one to claim credit for saving Tamino instead.

"What on earth is he wearing? He looks ridiculous," Nott suddenly interrupted the bird-catcher's song.

"Be quiet," Malfoy hissed back.

The set changed for the second scene, Sarastro's palace, and the beautiful Pamina was about to be molested only for Papageno to rescue her –

"Why didn't he just stun the slaver?" Nott asked loudly.

"They're Muggles, not Wizards," Malfoy whispered back.

"But it's a play about magic, innit?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake... Do shut up, will you?" Malfoy groaned in frustration, feeling only a little comfort in Narcissa's hand in his.

By the end of the third scene, the temple grove, he had passed from mild annoyance at Nott's interruptions to almost full anger. An anger that boiled over when Nott once again asked a dumb question just as Act I wrapped up.

"Was that bird guy using magic bells earlier? I thought they were Muggles?"

Malfoy slipped his wand out the top of his cane, hiding it along his body. "Nott? _Stupefy_ ," Malfoy cast, the jet of red light splashing against the loud-mouthed man sitting behind him. To his utter surprise he heard Narcissa cast the same spell and he saw Beatrice fall unconscious as well.

"Narcissa?"

"Wouldn't want her to start screaming, would we? Let's enjoy the opera, darling," she said, giving him a smile that melted his heart.

"If anyone asks, we'll tell them they fell asleep," Malfoy said back, squeezing her hand.

Act II was as beautiful as he had imagined, much more enjoyable without constant interruptions. As the story ended with Tamino and Pamino triumphant both Malfoys joined the rest of the public in rising for the applause.

"Thank you for this night, husband dearest," Narcissa said, kissing his cheek.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, darling. Now... what do we do about those two?"

"A mild _Confundus_ should do the trick, I think. We'll just tell them they fell asleep... let them think the opera was boring," Narcissa offered, shrugging slightly.

"I knew I didn't only marry you for you looks," Malfoy teased.

"Oh, you. Come on, let's take care of them. Oh, just one more thing..."

"What is it?"

"Lucius, we do need to get some _better_ friends."

Malfoy smiled. It was the greatest gift, to have your wife understand you so completely.

* * *

A/N: Written for Season 4 of the QLFC, Round 1: Where My Death Eaters At?

CAPTAIN: Write about your chosen Death Eater being with their friends

Team: Montrose Magpies.

Thanks to FF for beta-ing.

Wow, I'm rusty at writing...


	2. A Life of Regrets

A/N: Written for the QLFC round three.

Prompt: Magpie. Word count: 1750-2000.

Final word count: 1994.

* * *

 **A Life of Regrets**

 _One for sorrow_

It is an ill omen to spot a single magpie, and Albus Dumbledore is spooked by its appearance on the window-sill of his dormitory in Gryffindor tower.

"Shoo, bird, shoo," he tries to scare it away. The bird gives him a sideways look and screeches before it flies off.

The bad news comes at dinner.

"Mr. Dumbledore? Come with me, please," the Hogwarts professor tells the young promising student. Albus dutifully follows him to the Headmaster's office, wondering if he did something wrong all the while. He knows he didn't, but maybe he was set up? Gryffindor House is full of bullies, after all.

But he learns he is not in trouble himself. In the Headmaster's office he finds his mother, who looks like she has been crying.

"Albus… your father he, he was taken away," she begins to tell him, haltingly.

"Taken? Taken where? What happened?" he demands answers.

"To Az… to Azkaban! Oh, Albus," she exclaims, rushing in to embrace him as she begins to sob again. It takes some time before she calms down and is able to floo back home, Albus with her. Abe and Ari, his younger siblings, don't understand what happened at all, and Albus himself has little understanding of what happened. Only when their neighbour comes over to watch the children while his mother goes to the Ministry to plead for her husband's release does Albus learn his father was arrested for assaulting Muggles who had hurt little Ariana. Little Ariana, who is _special_ and not in a good way, but he loves her all the more for it. He understands what his father did, and why, and tries to tell Abe what happened.

Less than a week later he is back at school, pale as a ghost after having witnessed the trial where his father was sentenced to life in Azkaban for Mugglebaiting. He spots the magpie as he walks around the lake shore and shoots a curse at it as it cackles, but misses.

 _Two for joy_

He is an orphan now and responsible for his brother and sister. Aberforth is still a Hogwarts student but little Ariana is considered to be a Squib, if she is considered at all, and still lives at home. That is why Albus is there now, after his mother died in an _accident_ and left Ariana alon _e._ Oh no, she is not a Squib, far from it. She is much, much worse… a witch capable of wandless magic, but not of controlling it. He can't be angry at Ariana for having accidentally killed their mother, after all, she didn't know what she was doing. By now he knows that Ariana suffers from what Muggles are calling autism and will likely need care for the rest of her life, but he refuses to send her to Saint Mungo's. He has seen how horribly the mentally unstable are handled there, and he cannot do that to his little sister.

Albus is hanging up the wash with Ariana's help when he sees a pair of magpies sitting in a tree nearby. He has long forgotten about the magpie from years ago and smiles as he sees them sitting side by side. Magpies mate for life, he knows. Just as he looks away he sees an unfamiliar person walking up to their neighbour's house. The young man is about his age, has dark locks of hair and a noble face, and Albus is smitten on the spot.

Later that day Albus finds an excuse to go over and introduce himself. Gellert is his name, and he is on indefinite leave from Durmstrang. Gellert is a kindred soul, Albus finds, and intelligent, oh so smart. He is in love before the day is over, finding himself wanting to be with the young German man forever.

 _Three for a girl_

Gellert is delightfully foreign, most of all. Albus can spend hours just listening to him talk, the German inflection of his words just a little off but somehow increasing, not lessening, the impact.

As a small group of three magpies fly overhead that early summer they are sitting in Albus' garden talking about the future while Ariana plays nearby and makes herself a necklace of flowers.

"It is for the Greater Good of all mankind that we must take charge, Albus. Only with the might of magic can we end this madness the Muggles are forcing on the world. Do you realize that thousands have died in the Balkans alone this past decade? Men, women, and children, _Mein Gott_! And now the Germans and French are just one gunshot away from another war. Will it be Paris or Berlin that is sacked this time, Albie? We cannot let this happen again!"

Albus smiles. "I agree, Gellie. If we are to take charge, there is no more need for the Statute of Secrecy... and all the problems it causes."

Gellert's expression softens a little. "You refer to your father, do you not? And the... Incident?"

Albus shakes his head. "He should not have been punished so harshly... he was just protecting Ariana. Maybe, if he had not died in prison, she..."

"She would not have had the episode?" Gellert hugs Albus from behind while the English boy sobs. Kendra's death is still an open wound, made worse so by the fact it forced Albus to abandon his lofty goals to explore the world and study magic.

"It is not too late, Albus! You know I have friends in Munich still, powerful friends. Come with me, together we'll take over Durmstrang, and from there, the world!"

"But... what about Ariana? I have a responsibility to her," Albus says, hesitatingly.

"Take her with us, of course! Surely you see this cold, nasty place is no good for her."

"You're right, Gellie. Together, we can go anywhere in the world," Albus says, smiling as he hugs his friend.

Ariana won't be a problem, she would love to see the wider world, he justifies it to himself.

 _Four for a boy_

Later that year, after Abe returns from school, the Dumbledores prepare to eat in the back garden, it being a warm and beautiful summer day. Albus brings in the food and has just prepared three plates when loud screeching occurs behind him. He turns to see three, no, four magpies flying off as none other than Gellert climbs over the hedge they were resting on, a wide smile on the German boy's face.

"Gellert! Come, join us for dinner," Albus invites him. "Abe, this is Gellert. He is Mrs. Bagshot's cousin and a good friend of mine."

Abe mumbles a greeting and scoots over to allow Gellert a place to sit.

" _Danke_ , Albus. I had to get away from there. Auntie is making me crazy," Gellert explains himself. Albus grins.

Before long most of their food is gone and they begin speaking about their plans again.

"What?" Abe's exclamation derails Albus's train of thought, and it takes a moment before he realizes Aberforth and Ariana are still nearby.

"You are planning to take Ariana away? You and that foreigner?" Abe continues.

Gellert frowns. "Be off, child, the adults are speaking."

"Get out of my house," Aberforth counters.

"Make me," Gellert says, his expression darkening as he reaches for his wand.

"Gellie... please," Albus steps between them. Turning to face his brother he continues, "Just listen to his ideas, Abe. Gellert has great ideas, all for the Greater Good of –"

"I heard that nonsense before! Dammit, Al, what about me? What about Ariana? Are you just going to leave us?"

"No, of course not! You can come with us too," Albus quickly says.

"With you and _him_? I think not," Abe scoffs.

"Ignore the little boy, Albie. We have plans to make," Gellert says, slowly lowering his wand.

Unfortunately it seems he has provoked Abe too far. "Little boy? You lousy Prussian bastard! Go then, and take my no-good brother with you! But you're not dragging Ariana into this!"

"Would you condemn her to a life of staying hidden when I can offer her the world?" Albus tries once more, but it is too late.

Before he knows it Gellert has cast the Cruciatus on Abe, and he is forced to curse Gellert in turn, only to receive a hit by a cutter from a quickly recovered Abe. Spells fly everywhere and in the end, Gellert is running away as Ariana lies dead on the ground.

 _Five for silver_

Albus is an old man when he sees his sister again. One day he is walking at the lake shore at his school when he spots a group of magpies, five in number, flying overhead. Perhaps the descendant of that bird from long ago is among them for Albus finds his robe soiled with bird droppings, and he rushes inside. In his haste to make it back to his quarters before a student spots him he makes a wrong turn and finds himself in a room he has never seen before at Hogwarts, and in that room is a shining silver gleam.

It is an old and dusty mirror, and Albus forgets about his current wardrobe malfunction for a moment as he inspects it.

" _Erised_ _stra_ … no, this is mirror writing," he mumbles to himself, mentally reversing the text. "A mirror that shows my desire? How odd..."

He gasps as he sees his reflection, for it is not alone. Standing next to the mirror Albus is a very much alive Ariana, smiling at him.

"Ariana… how..."

She raises a finger to her lips as if to shush him, then takes a pair of socks out of her pocket. Albus doesn't care about the tears rolling down his cheeks as he sees mirror Ariana put them in his reflection's pockets, just as the real Ariana did every Christmas while she was still alive.

It's only when he finally returns to his quarters that he finds the socks are really in his robe pockets somehow.

 _Six for gold_

Older and wiser still, yet oh so tired. Albus knows he cannot let young Harry find all the Horcruxes himself, not while he can still help. As he walks through the countryside of Little Hangleton searching for the Gaunt shack, he disturbs a colony of magpies. Six of them fly off in protest but he ignores them, for he has found the shack at last.

The defences, magically reanimated snake skeletons, are quickly dealt with by a wave of the Elder Wand, but they are proof that Tom has indeed been here. No other living wizard knows necromancy quite as well as Tom, after all.

Once inside Albus casts some detecting spells and smiles.

"Clever, Tom, but not clever enough," he mumbles to himself as he disables a particularly nasty ward on the floorboards, then crouches down to open the secret hatch.

His breath stills as he sees the item he was looking for; a single gold ring holding a stone marked with the Peverell sign.

"Ariana," he mumbles to himself, slipping the ring on. But before he can use the Stone to call her, aching pain shoots through his body. He takes the ring off as quickly as he can, throws it to the far wall and casts a blasting curse after it, but the pain does not stop. It is all he can do to pick the ring back up, mercifully destroyed, before he apparates to Hogwarts, praying that Severus can save his life.

 _Seven for a secret never to be told_

Every student save for the traitors is present at Dumbledore's funeral, all wearing dress robes. Even the animals appear to be mourning, seven magpies silently sitting in a tree nearby watching the crowd.

Only Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix companion and long-time friend, is not silent, singing a song of lament.

Bright magic engulfs his body as he is laid to rest, taking a lifetime of secrets with him.


	3. First Days

A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 4 - Creature Comforts.

Team: Montrose Magpies; Position: Captain.

Creature: Dragon; 988 words

Thanks to Firefly88 for beta-ing. Any remaining errors are my own fault.

* * *

 **First Days**

The huge face framed by black hair everywhere is the first thing she sees as she shakes the remnants of egg shells off her head. It leans in far too close for comfort so she tries to snap at it, only to wince when it makes a booming sound from its mouth. Scared, she tries to bite at it, but it is fast and avoids her teeth. She feels something rushing up her throat and breathes out, letting a small flame escape from her mouth and she feels pleasure as it manages to light the big thing's hair on fire, briefly.

Later, as it feeds her some brandy with chicken blood, the dragon begins to relax. The world is strange and she does not quite understand what is going on yet – where are her mother and siblings, for example? – but she realizes the big thing wants to care for her. For now, she will let it. It keeps saying 'Norbert' as it indicates to her, so she accepts that as her name.

Every day she grows a little taller, and soon the big thing no longer scares her. It is a human she now knows, the knowledge coming to her from somewhere deep inside her own mind, albeit a very big kind of human. As she practices her fire breathing, the big human – Hagrid, he calls himself – laughs with joy, although she notices he always immediately douses her fire.

Hagrid has guests over frequently, always the same ones. A human boy with dark hair, with a scar that stinks of evil and makes Norbert want to stay away. A human girl with hair almost as untamable as Hagrid's, who annoys her greatly by always yammering on about something. And a human boy with red hair who is currently standing far too close to her. She growls to scare him off, but he ignores her, so the next time his hand moves toward her face she bites it. The boy lets out a scream and shakes her off his hand, but Norbert is pleased. Hagrid cradles her and begins singing a soothing song as the boy runs away. She only breathes fire on Hagrid one time as he sings for her.

The next time the three human children are back, Norbert tries intimidating the red haired boy again. She gets some pleasure from how he whimpers as she gets too close, hiding behind his friends. As Hagrid and the children talk she hears them mention her name several times but thinks little of it. Human speech is annoying to listen to, and she has better things to do. Such as figure out how flammable Hagrid's bed is…

Hagrid leaves her alone the next day, and Norbert is grateful for the extra room, needing it to try to stretch her wings. She has grown a lot by now and is almost at the size where she thinks she can try flying, but for that she needs to be outside. She has almost decided to try to burn down the door and go out when Hagrid returns, carrying a huge box.

"Here now, Norbert, in the box. It will be fine, yeh jus' trust me," Hagrid says, placing the box on the floor in front of her.

Norbert eyes it warily. Surely he does not mean for her to get inside?

"Come now, Norbert, off yeh go. All will be fine, I promise yeh," Hagrid says.

Norbert scoffs, a lick of flame escaping her mouth. Then, betrayal! Hagrid pushes her inside, his strength still greater than hers. Norbert roars in protest, but her immature throat is incapable of making much noise.

"All will be well, promised," Hagrid says, sniffling a little as he throws in the stuffed animal he has been trying to get her to sleep with, as well as some pieces of meat. Norbert is too affronted to care at the moment, snapping at the door as he closes it.

'Let me out,' she wants to yell at him, but speech is not something dragons are capable of. All she can do is try to break the door open.

She hears the three children return and then, to add insult to injury, her prison is covered by some cloth as they carry her outside – without her being able to see most of it! The trio carries her prison inside a huge human building, then up a long flight of stairs. Finally they stop and the cloth is pulled off her. Norbert stops struggling for a moment as she catches her first real glimpse of the outside world through the small openings in the door.

It is beautiful.

She ignores the noises the three children make as they wait, content to take in the sky, but all too soon the moment is interrupted by the arrival of several humans flying on wooden sticks. Norbert feels angry again, why can they fly while she is locked up?

Her protests are unheeded, unnoticed, as the new group of wizards picks up her prison, and they fly off.

Even the sights of a landscape passing under her are not enough to keep Norbert from eventually falling asleep, and by the time she wakes up her prison is on the ground again. As she sniffs the air, she smells something that is both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. She gets no time to investigate though, as big human legs step in front of her prison and a face looks in.

"Is this the one?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

"Obviously, Weasley," a man scoffs. "Courtesy of your brother, one dragon."

"I thought he was pulling my leg… well, let it out then!"

Norbert sees her prison door open and rushes outside. The first thing she sees is a human with red hair, like the boy she had seen at Hagrid's, but behind him… Dragons. Many, many dragons.

Norbert finally is home.


	4. Hermione's Secret

A/N: Written for QLFC round 5, The Mystery Boxes.

Muggle box: Setting: The Granger household

* * *

 **Hermione's Secret**

Frank Granger looked over at his daughter again. The Granger family was sharing their dinner; Hermione had returned only a week before from her sixth year at magic school – 'Hogwarts, dear', he could mentally hear Martha, his wife of twenty-two years, correct him.

His seventeen year old daughter and only child was fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt in that oh so familiar way; it being a habit she had inherited from her mother.

He caught his wife's eyes and realized that she, too, was watching their daughter struggle with something.

Frank let out a sigh. It was obvious Hermione wanted to tell them something, but at this rate it would take forever before she actually spoke up.

"Honey pie, what is the matter?" he asked her, failing to hide the concern in his voice.

Hermione looked up as if shocked. "Wha – what? Nothing, nothing is wrong, Dad." Frantically she looked at him, and then, her mother. "I am fine, really!"

"You and I both know that isn't the truth, honey," Frank said, smiling comfortingly at her. "You've hardly eaten since you sat down, and your mother and I both heard you pacing in your room until very late last night. You can never sleep when you are worried about something."

"I – That is I – It's nothing," his daughter stammered, then rose from her seat. "Mum, Dad, may I be excused? I'm not that hungry."

"Oh, muffin, I know what it is," Martha said, standing up herself. She walked around the table and hugged her daughter from behind. "It's obvious, really."

"It is?" Hermione half gasped. "But… but how? I thought I –"

"A mother knows," Martha said, smiling knowingly. "I had my suspicions when your father picked you up from London last week, but I thought you needed the time to figure out how to tell us both."

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," Hermione said, relaxing in her mother's embrace. "I was so worried you wouldn't understand or that we'd have a fight about it."

Frank looked his wife in the eyes, she might know what was going on, but he definitely didn't. Martha mouthed something at him and for a moment he was confused, then, he was shocked.

"Oh, good lord," he muttered. Frank let out a sigh, then sat up straight and gave his daughter a – hopefully – encouraging smile, asking, "How long have you known, honey?"

He could see Hermione nibbling her lower lip for a moment as she mulled over the answer. "It was obvious after the Headmaster's funeral, I guess," she said. "But in a way, I always knew it'd have to be this way."

"The boy – Harry, was it? – Does he know?"

Hermione let out a half-hearted laugh. "Of course, Dad. How could he not?"

' _How indeed,_ ' Frank thought. "Well, at least it's Harry," he said aloud.

"Huh? What do you mean, Dad?"

"I can't say I'm that happy, you're only seventeen after all, but better Harry than that other guy. The ginger."

"Ron?" Hermione sounded confused. "Why would it be Ron? Ron is our best friend sure, but Harry's the Chosen One."

"Is that what they call it these days? I need a drink," Frank muttered, adding in a more audible tone, "Martha, I'm getting a glass of ale, would you or Hermione like something?"

"Just a water for us both," Martha replied. She took the free chair next to her daughter, turning it slightly so she was facing her child.  
"I always knew you'd end up with him, ever since my little muffin came home with an entire book store's worth of books about one Harry Potter," she said, smiling.

Hermione just nodded, smiling a little. Frank returned with their drinks, and Hermione took a sip of her water just as her mother said, "I wish you would have waited, though. I am not old enough to be a grandmother yet."

Hermione nearly choked on her drink, coughing as the water shot down the wrong hole.

"A grand – Mum! What?"

"It'll be fine, muffin," Martha said, smiling. "Your baby bump isn't that visible yet, so you can have the wedding without any scandal."

"Baby bump?" Hermione's voice seemed to have gone up an octave as she stared at her mother, wide-eyed. "What baby bump?"

Martha placed her hands on Hermione's stomach, carefully. "I first thought you'd gone a little pudgy from all that fat food you eat at Hogwarts, can you believe that?"

Hermione shot to her feet. "Mum! I am not pregnant!" she cried, indignantly. "How can you even believe that?"

Martha was just confused. "You're not? But I thought –"

"So I've gained a little weight, so what! Merlin, how could you even _think_ I would get knocked up?"

"There is no need to shout, honey pie," Frank spoke up. "It's a logical conclusion, after all you are at that age, and you always come back with stories full of 'Harry this' and 'Harry that'."

"I… I… No! Just, no!" Hermione yelled. "Gods, I can't believe you two! Harry and I haven't even kissed, let alone done… _that_! Besides, I'm with Ron now and –" Mortified, she clamped her hands on her mouth, then sat back down, taking a deep breath.

After a pregnant pause, Martha said, "Ron? Really? What is wrong with Harry?"

"Muuuuuuum!" Hermione complained. "Please, don't say another word, I feel embarrassed enough already."

"All I want to know is why you –"

"No, no, no!" Hermione stood up quickly and ran out of the room.

"That went well," Frank said.

"Shut up, Frank," Martha replied.

"Yes, dear," Frank answered. It was only much later that he realized they still hadn't gotten Hermione to tell them what was _really_ bothering her.


	5. Waking Up In Trouble

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 6 - Deadly Sins & Heavenly Virtues. Team: Montrose Magpies. Wordcount without A/N: 1428._

 _Thanks to FF and Sam for correcting some errors._

 _Canon compliant up to the last scene of book 7, ignores the crapilogue._

 _For Gabrielle's dialogue I tried to copy Fleur's accent from the books here, and for the French I relied on my vague memories of High School French. Apologies to any actual Francophones, I promise you zat I am a leetle sorry._

* * *

 **Waking Up In Trouble**

Harry woke up. Despite going to sleep alone, he was no longer alone in bed. His bed was being shared by someone female, judging by the soft breast he was cupping with his left hand. More than that, whoever it was, she was spooning with him, resting against his chest. And on top of that, he was acutely aware of her bum that was pressing against his… oh. That explained the dream he just woke up from.

He tried to make out who it was, but in the darkness of the room and without his glasses, all he could tell was that she was a blonde. A very young and very undressed blonde. Great, that narrowed it down to… no-one at all. Last night had been Fleur's baby shower, and with the wedding being held in wartime a few years ago, her family had decided to combine the missed 'proper' wedding with this new joyful occasion by showing up en masse. Harry was sure at least twenty Veela cousins had been in the garden of Shell Cottage last night. As a good friend of both Bill and Fleur he had spoken with them all, and danced with more than a few. But that didn't explain why he had a partner in his bed now. Remembering the position of his hand, he slowly, carefully, released her and tried to pull it out from under her.

A sleepy voice interrupted him, "So, you're awake finally, 'arry?". Harry was stunned. "Hmm. You definitely are," she said, wiggling her ass against him, and then laughing. Harry finally moved away from her, sat up, and grabbed his glasses from the side table.

She turned as he sat up, and he recognised her. Gabrielle, Fleur's not-so-little-anymore sister.

"So, do English wizards all sleep in ze nude, 'arry?" she asked, grinning impishly.

"Gabby, how did you get here?" Harry hissed more than asked.

"Well, you see, _ma soeur_ told me I would be an aunt, and so I –"

"No, I mean, why are you in my bed?"

"Oh, after last night got a _leetle_ wild, I zought I 'ad best sleep with someone safe. Everyone knows you are a 'ero, 'arry," Gabby said, then she looked down a little. "Alzough I was not expecting to meet your _wand_ ," she added.

Harry's face turned white. "Merlin… I didn't… we didn't… Did we?"

Gabby gasped, "You mean you don't remember, 'arry? Oh, you 'urt my feelings." She held her shocked expression for a moment, then she laughed.

"That's not funny, Gabby! What the hell? I remember talking to Fleur and Bill, then dancing, then I floo'd back home around 2, 3, and went to bed."

"Well, you danced with me, and I liked it," Gabby stated. "So, I simply followed you 'ome. You passed out almost immediately after coming 'ere, and I felt cold, so I joined you."

"But you said – and I woke up holding your –"

"Oh 'arry, I was teasing. I admit I was a _leetle_ surprised when you cuddled up to me, and I certainly felt you looking for a 'wand holster' zis morning, but my virtue is safe, I swear." She threw off the sheet, revealing her yellow knickers. "See? Nothing to worry about, 'arry."

Harry blushed, partially from falling for her tease, but more so from realising just how exposed she was. He needed to get her back, somehow. "You wish. You're not affecting me in any way."

"Oh, is zat so?" Gabby smiled devilishly and placed her hand over his crotch, pushing down on the thin sheet covering his lower region. "Feels like I am, 'arry."

"Gabby! Cut it out!" Harry pushed her hand off, quickly.

"I am just teasing," she said, sticking out her tongue.

"Seriously, you can't do things like that."

"And why not?"

"You're under-age, for one! And I don't want to do _that_ with you!"

"Oh really? Zat's not what _Monsieur Wand_ told me zis morning," Gabby countered. She stuck out her tongue, adding, "and I turned seventeen last month, 'arry, so I can do whatever I want." She threw her torso back, raising her legs, and in a flash her knickers were down her legs, dangling only off her left foot.

"Oh no, now my virtue is no longer protected," she said, kicking her knickers towards Harry. They landed on his naked chest before falling down to the sheet, next to the tent that had formed there.

"Don't worry, 'arry. I am not ashamed of being naked around you, as you should not be around me. But as much as I enjoy looking at you… and you looking at me… I don't have any interest of going any further." Harry let out a sigh of relief, before she added, "Not before breakfast, anyway."

Gabby stretched, doing wonderful things to her young breasts, and Harry found himself staring at them as if entranced. As he looked up his eyes met hers, and the knowing look revealed she had not just caught him watching, she enjoyed it.

Harry felt he needed to take back control. "Gabby, stop it. Even if you _are_ seventeen now, the fact is I am six years older than you are. Not to mention that Fleur is one of my best friends. Please, get dressed and we can forget all about this."

Gabby frowned. "Do you think I care about ze age difference, 'arry? Do you have any idea what it is for a _leetle_ old girl to have a genuine 'ero rescue 'er from a fate worse zan death? When you put your arms around me as you carried me to shore, you did not just save my life, you stole my 'eart. I've been waiting seven years for zis chance, 'arry, and you're not getting away now."

"But Gabby, you –"

"No, you will let me finish!" Gabby cut in, shouting almost. "I love you, 'arry James Potter! And I will be with you until you realise you love me back. You and I are going to marry in France and I will give you as many babies as you want, and zey will be the prettiest children ze world 'as ever seen. I want you, 'arry, and you 'ad better get used to it!"

"Gabby, that's enough. Go get dressed and have Kreacher serve you some food. We'll talk after I've had the chance to get dressed myself."

"No."

"What?"

"I said 'no', 'arry. I waited long enough. _Maman_ and _Papa_ refused to let me transfer to 'ogwarts so I could be closer to you, and zen by ze time ze war was over you were with zat red-haired skank. I waited and waited until you finally realised she was not right for you, and zen, it finally 'appened just as I was invited to ma soeur's party. Now 'ere we both are, adults, single, and no-one can stop us."

Harry groaned. "Gabby, even if Ginny and I were a mistake, that does not mean I want a relationship right away. And definitely not with you."

"Oh really? You are not attracted to me?" Gabby asked, smirking.

"No, I –"

"Why zen has ' _your flagpole_ ' been at full mast, as you English say, ever since you woke up?"

"That… that's simply physiology," Harry sputtered.

"Aha. Tell you what, 'arry. I'll go downstairs and 'ave your Elf prepare breakfast for us both… you take care of your 'problem' in ze mean time." She stepped out of the bed and walked over to a chair near the door. Harry followed her shapely rear as she walked, hips swinging seductively, then he let out a groan as she ducked to pick up her clothes from the chair.

Gabby looked over her shoulder, grinning as she saw his flushed face, and Harry realized she had caught him looking again. Gabby wriggled into her skirt, then pulled her shirt on. "'ave fun, 'arry, but not too much. If you're not at ze table by ze time I finish my breakfast, I'll come looking for you." At that, she left the room.

Harry looked at the now closed door, then looked down and realized he still had her tiny knickers lying there. Her tiny knickers that she was definitely not wearing under that very short skirt, right now. Harry had just one thing to say to himself: "I am so doomed".


	6. The Reluctant Groom

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 7 - Pairing Palooza. Team: Montrose Magpies. Word count without A/N: 2709._

 _Pairing: S.S Stellar Legends - Draco/Astoria._

 _Thanks to Lizzy for her beta work, remaining errors are my own.  
_

* * *

 **The Reluctant Groom**

Draco Malfoy looked in surprise at the persons sitting with his parents at the Malfoys' table. Neither Lucius or Narcissa had informed him they would be entertaining guests that day, after all.

"Mother, Father, who are they?" Draco asked.

"Ah, Draco, you have returned from… work," Lucius remarked, not hiding the disdain in his voice for that last word at all.

"Obviously," Draco said under his breath.

"Your father and I have some business to discuss with Lord and Lady Greengrass, little dragon. Why don't you go to your room for now?" Narcissa said.

Draco let out a groan, thinking ' _Always with the demeaning nicknames,_ _M_ _other, and in front of others, too?_ ' Mumbling a greeting, he left the room and did as his mother asked, having learned long ago that if they didn't want to tell him what this was about, they wouldn't. And he had lost enough face in front of strangers already, so he would not get into an argument right now.

An hour later, Draco was reading one of his Auror manuals, when his mother called him downstairs.

"This would be the boy then?" Lord Greengrass said. Draco bristled. ' _'Boy?' He was twenty-one years old, thank you very much!_ '

"I can see why he's still single," Lady Greengrass added, adding insult to injury. "Well then, boy, show us."

"Show you what… madam?" Draco said, getting an encouraging nod from his mother as he used a respectful form of address.

"Your left arm, of course!" Draco saw his mother frantically nod, while Lucius only grimaced. Reluctantly he pulled up his sleeve, revealing the now faded but still quite visible Dark Mark.

"See, Cyril? Our Daphne was right," Lady Greengrass said to her husband.

"Quite. Well, Lucius old chap, you _do_ understand that this changes things? He _is_ damaged goods, after all." Lucius' grimace got stronger and Draco wondered if his father would speak up finally, when Narcissa indicated Draco should leave again.

Half an hour later he heard the front door open and close, and he knew their guests were gone. It was time to get some answers. Draco went back downstairs, only to be startled by the sight of his father emptying a glass of Ogden's Finest Firewhisky in one gulp.

"Mother, why were those horrible people here?" Draco asked, going for the more sober parent.

"It was for your future, little dragon. Lord Greengrass has agreed to support your career, and in return we only had to give away the Malfoy vineyards as a bride price," Narcissa said.

"Bride price? Who for?" Draco asked.

"Merlin, why couldn't I have a son with _her_ looks and _my_ intelligence, instead of the reverse," Lucius grumbled under his breath, adding in a louder tone, "Don't be daft, son. For you, of course."

"But… but… am I getting married then?"

"Obviously, you dimwit… the wedding will be at the summer solstice. I'm sure you'll be happy with her," Lucius said.

"But that's in three weeks!"

"Oh look, the boy can read a calendar," Lucius sneered.

"Come, Draco. Let's leave your father alone. He has had a stressful day," Narcissa said, guiding Draco out of the room. He was happy to leave, Lucius got mean when he had a drink in him. And to be honest, his own mind was reeling as well. It wasn't every day you heard you would be married before the next month had passed.

Draco went to bed that night distressed. His parents had sold him into marriage? To Daphne Greengrass, of all people? He simply could not understand why his own parents would do something like this. Daphne and he had hardly spoken a word in the years they spent at Hogwarts together, and Draco had always had the feeling that the girl felt him not even worthy of her attention.

Not for the first time, Draco wished he had any friends left. He could really use some support right now.

* * *

A week later, his mood hadn't improved any.

"Mum, must I? I don't even _like_ her," Draco whined. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you must. It's not every day a junior Auror like you is promoted to full Auror, and it's perfectly reasonable for your fiancée's parents to want to congratulate you," Narcissa said, fixing Draco's tie.

"I can do it myself, thanks," Draco grumbled, pushing her hands away. "And we both know this promotion was long overdue."

"You should be thankful, little dragon. If Lord Greengrass hadn't had a word with Dawlish, you would still be waiting," Narcissa chided him.

"Yeah, yeah. Bunch of gits. I thought the War was over," Draco grumbled. Narcissa released his clothes, suddenly looking sad.

"Draco, we were all lucky enough to avoid Azkaban. People weren't happy with Mr. Potter and Minister Shacklebolt granting us full amnesty, so a little setback in your career is understandable."

"Understandable my arse," Draco scoffed.

"Language!"

"I apologize, Mother. Well, do I look respectable?" Narcissa looked her son over, a small smile appearing on her face.

"You look a perfect gentlewizard. Go, dazzle your bride-to-be with your good looks."

"Ugh." Draco stepped into the floo, calling out 'Greengrass Manor', and he was whisked away.

Dinner with the Greengrasses was _weird_ , no other way to put it. Draco was seated at the foot of the table, directly across from Lord Greengrass. Daphne sat on his left and her little sister on his right, with Lady Greengrass sitting beside her youngest. Throughout the meal Draco tried to start a civil conversation with Daphne, but all he got from her were monosyllabic answers, if that. And on top of that he was constantly interrupted by Astoria asking him about this and that.

"Draco, is it true you work with the _Man-Who-_ _Wo_ _n_?" Astoria asked, leaning a bit towards him.

"No, I don't work directly with Potter. He is in a unit with Weasley and Finnigan, _the Gryffindor Squad_ , they call it. Daphne, do you work anywhere?" Faced with silence and an icy glare, he was almost glad Astoria interrupted him another question.

"My favourite colour? Green, of course. What is yours, Daph—where are you going?" Daphne stood up without sparing him even a glance, pushing her chair back and heading out of the room.

"Oh for… Mother, Father, Daphne and I need a little freshening up, we'll be back in a moment, all right?" Astoria said, elegantly rising from her seat, adding "I apologize, Draco. Daphne has some… issues with the arrangement."

"How about those Falcons this year, eh?" Draco said to his future father-in-law, trying to lift the sudden changed mood. Lord Greengrass's expression changed in an instant from somewhat sullen to enthusiastic.

"Did you catch their last match against the Heidelberg Harriers in the European cup?" Draco hid a smile. Quidditch, the thing that could rescue almost every conversation.

"I am sorry to interrupt your lively debate, but my daughters have returned," Lady Greengrass interrupted the two, just as Lord Greengrass was detailing a particularly dangerous catch by one of the German Chasers. "Draco, why don't you join them in a walk around the garden?"

"I will, thank you, sir, madam," Draco said, rising from his seat and walking towards the two girls, who were standing near the back door to the garden.

"May I offer you my arm?" Draco offered to Daphne, but she just scoffed, turning away her head, and before he could say anything Astoria had slipped her arm through his.

"Come, Draco, let me show you the best spot to read a book, it's over there near the fountain," the young woman said, smiling brightly at him as she lead him there, Daphne following the two.

Finally, the evening came to an end, and Draco said his goodbyes to the Greengrass family. Daphne reluctantly let him kiss her hand; Astoria was more enthusiastic and Draco worried for a moment she would try to get him to kiss her cheek instead, but fortunately with Lord and Lady Greengrass standing next to them she seemed to curb her enthusiasm at the last moment.

"Well, Draco, how did it go?" Narcissa asked him once he returned.

"It could have gone worse, I guess," Draco said. "Her sister played chaperone the whole time, not that there was anything to worry about. I fear she hates me, mother."

"Nonsense. She'll learn to love you soon enough. I didn't like your father that much when I first met him, too, but we are very much in love now."

"Yes, Mum," Draco said. "May I be excused?"

"Go then," Narcissa said, smiling. As Draco made his way to the stairwell she added, "I am so proud of you, little dragon."

Despite the slight sting of her using the hated nickname, Draco was pleased.

* * *

The 'second date' didn't go much better. For some reason Narcissa and Lady Greengrass thought it a good idea to have Draco fit for his wedding robes in the company of the two Greengrass daughters, which meant Draco was the unfortunate wizard being taken from _Madam Malkin's_ to _Twilfitt and Tatting's_ to _Johnston's Robes for All Occasions_ and back, all the while being forced to try on one set of robes after the other while the witches remarked about how wrong each was.

After the third round trip, Draco began to lose his temper. Was it just his imagination, or did Daphne actually look pleased at seeing him being forced to pose all the time?

"Mother, I liked that one," Astoria spoke up suddenly, just as Lady Greengrass was about to summon the shop assistant to bring them yet another outfit. "The green has a nice contrast with his eyes."

"Hmm… I suppose it does. What do you think, Narcissa, Daphne?"

"It looks amazing," Narcissa said. "Good eye, Astoria."

"I don't care," Daphne said. "Mother, I'm bored. Can we leave now?"

"Daphne! That's no way to speak to your mother in public! Don't you understand how important this wedding is to your—" Draco felt he needed to speak up, and fast, before this became a huge argument.

"Well then, we found my wedding robes! Do they match the bride's dress?" Lady Greengrass's expression changed almost instantly from disapproval to a slight panic.

"Oh, Morgana, the dress! We need to do the final fitting! Draco, you should leave now, it's bad luck to see it before the big day!"

"Until next time then, ladies, Mother," Draco said, giving them a slight bow, happy to be out of there. ' _That_ _sh_ _ould make Daphne face the horror of being a living doll_ ', he thought, smirking slightly as he re-dressed in his normal clothes and left the store, leaving his fiancée behind with two panicking future mothers-in-law.

* * *

"I guess this is it, then?" Draco said, letting out a sigh. He stood in front of the mirror of his new bedroom, having moved into his own flat on Carkitt Market only the day before. Apparently getting married meant having to move out, and Lucius felt 'better late than never' was a good idea. At least with the assist of an army of house-elves and some deft wand-work it was quite possible to move everything Draco personally owned, or now would need, in just one day.

He pulled on the sleeve of his wedding robes, feeling awkward all of a sudden. They _did_ look good on him, but was he really ready to begin a married life with Daphne Greengrass, a woman who really seemed to dislike him?

"You look lovely, dear, but you really should be going. The ceremony is starting soon," the mirror told him.

"I know, I know," Draco grumbled. By the time he came here the next time he would be a married man, a newly-wed. The large bed, big enough to fit two, was visible behind his reflection, but Draco had little hope he would get to sleep there once married. With how much Daphne seemed to detest him, he would be lucky to be allowed to sleep on the sofa in the living room.

"A Malfoy does not run away from a challenge," Draco told himself. Swallowing to get the sudden constriction out of his throat, he turned on his heel and apparated to the magic circle where the ceremony would be held.

* * *

"Finally, you're here… you had me worried you'd run," Narcissa said in a teasing tone.

"Of course not, Mother. As much as she hates me, we'll just have to make it work, somehow."

"Oh, my little dragon… she'll love you soon enough, I just know it. My little boy is so grown up..." Narcissa rushed closer to hug her son.

"Mum, you'll mess up my hair," Draco complained, but his heart was not in it. His mother really loved him, he knew.

"Did… did anyone come?" he asked, trying to look over his mother's shoulder to the seated guests.

"Gregory came," Narcissa said. "We also invited Blaise and Theo, but they had prior obligations."

' _Don't want to associate with a former Death Eater, more like,_ ' Draco thought. "Is that it?"

"I invited some of your colleagues. Ha—Potter came, as did Dawlish," Narcissa added.

Draco let out a sigh. Trust Potter to be the 'bigger man' and wish him well. One day soon he really would have to apologize to his former nemesis for all the things he did… but not today.

"And D—the Greengrasses?"

"They're in the bride's tent," Narcissa said, smiling. "Your father is making his way over to us, so I'll go take my seat. Make me proud, my darling boy."

Draco stood before the druid's altar, alone. He had rejected Gregory's offer to serve as his witness; he wasn't here by choice, so he wouldn't pull another into the rite. Any moment now Daphne would take her place at his side… and speak of the devil, there the tent opened.

Draco turned to face the altar, offering a silent prayer to the spirits that somehow they would make it work. He hoped he would not be forced into a loveless marriage just because Lucius and Narcissa thought they had to meddle, to secure his future.

He hardly noticed as his bride was brought before the druid, Lord Greengrass reciting the traditional formula that he willingly offered his daughter, then he caught his bride's eyes.

His bride's loving, sparkling eyes.

"Astoria?" Draco asked, his own eyes growing wide.

"Were you expecting someone else?" she asked in turn, a mischievous smile on her face. A little behind her stood Daphne in what was obviously bridesmaid's robes, looking miserable at being forced into this.

"But I thought that—"

"Don't worry about her, it doesn't matter she isn't that fond of you. I think I will quickly be able to fall in love with you, Draco dearest, and that's what matters," Astoria said.

"Ahem. Are we ready?" the druid prompted, causing Draco to quickly nod.

All too soon their hands were tied with a length of cloth, and the druid was guiding them through the ceremony that would ask the spirits to bless their bond.

' _Love me? She_ _will_ _love me?_ ' that thought was repeating through his head, until finally their hands were untied, and the druid handed Draco the bride's ring. ' _Now or never, Draco,_ ' he thought.

"Astoria, I have not known you for long, but I know you to be a loving young woman, and I thank the spirits for allowing me to prove myself to you. I swear to be a loving husband, a doting father when that time comes, and to stand besides you until the end of days," he said as he placed the ring on her hand, completely forgetting the formal vows Lucius had made him study over the past days. Judging by the wide smile on Astoria's face, this was the right decision. Draco lost himself in her loving eyes as she made her own vow, while she was presenting him with his own ring.

"Let your vows be sealed with a kiss," the druid said.

As their lips met, Draco felt what it was to truly love, and be loved. No matter how it started, no matter how annoyed he had felt, he would make this work. Astoria was worth it.


	7. The Dark Lord's Victory

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 8 -_ _Dystopian Future. Team: Montrose Magpies._

 _CAPTAIN:_ _How and when does Voldemort 'win' or rise to power?_

 _Warning: somewhat cracky._

 _Thanks to Shannon and FF for beta work, remaining errors are my own._

* * *

 **The Dark Lord's Victory**

Hermione's note had said it was a basilisk, but even being warned in advance hadn't helped Harry prepare for the reality of facing an enormous snake-lizard hybrid out to kill him. He had tried, tried his best to reason with Tom Riddle—Voldemort—but a part of him knew he was doomed from the start. As he ran through the slippery corridors of the massive subterranean chamber, trying to avoid the immense monster, he made the fatal mistake of looking back. One look was all it took for the _Boy-Who-Lived_ to become the _Boy-Who-Died_.

Voldemort didn't see the dark smoke rise from Harry's scar as his rigid form collapsed to the ground. The basilisk paid it no mind at all.

"Good riddance," Voldemort said, before turning to address the basilisk. "Eat him, my pet. You have earned it. Then close your eyes; I feel the life force transfer of my host is almost complete."

Smirking at the still form of Ginny Weasley, Voldemort watched the comatose girl take a last, weak, breath. The next breath that came was not a girl's lungs filling up, but his own. "I'm back," Voldemort said, a small note of wonder in his voice. "I _am_ back. It worked… what do you know, old Sluggy told the truth."

He twirled the girl's—no, _his_ —wand in his hand, then let out a laugh that promised no good for the unsuspecting people outside the Chamber.

—-

"Harry? Is that you?" Ron called out, hearing a rumble in the blocked up corridor.

"Are you talking to me?" the confused Lockhart asked.

"No, you git. Shut up," Ron snapped. He eyed the collapsed hallway with some suspicion. It didn't sound like Harry, it was far too big, but who else could it be?

The next moment a huge scaled head barged through the rocks, the impact throwing Ron back. He had no time to voice his complaint, as the next thing he saw was a pair of yellow eyes, and then Ron was no longer capable of seeing or feeling anything at all.

"Oh, hello. What happened to him, then?" Lockhart asked, shifting his gaze from Ron's collapsed form to the creature. His last mistake.

—-

Minerva McGonagall barged into the Headmaster's office, panic in her voice. "Albus! Mr. Potter and young Mr. Weasley are missing, too! I think they went after Ginny!"

"What?!" To her surprise, it was not Dumbledore who answered her, but Molly Weasley. "Do you mean to tell me _three_ of mine are in danger?!"

"Molly, please, calm down," Dumbledore said, mentally smiling at the idea that Harry had become an honorary Weasley to her. "I'm sure they'll turn up soon enough. Harry is fine, you see, or my instruments would tell me."

"So, what does the dark smoke on that one mean?" Arthur asked, indicating a silver orb.

Dumbledore paled. "When… when did that happen?"

He was interrupted by a silver eagle Patronus flying through the wall. It opened its mouth to speak with Flitwick's voice: "Dumbledore! Seal off the common rooms! There is a basilisk in the hallways!"

Dumbledore paled even further. "Slytherin's monster," he mumbled.

"Albus! The children!" McGonagall screamed in his ear.

—-

Tom was having the time of his life, riding the basilisk through the tunnel that connected the Chamber of Secrets to the girls' bathroom. He didn't bother to conceal his glee at not only being back with the living, but taking care of his biggest enemies as well. Ginny Weasley had done him a great service in killing all the roosters near the school, so he knew nothing could stop his pet now. Exiting the bathroom, he guided the basilisk to the corridor, not caring about the massive destruction it left in its wake as the monster made its way to the Great Hall.

The few unfortunate students that crossed his path didn't live long enough to scream, now that no-one was deliberately trying to prevent the basilisk from passing its gaze directly over its victims. If Ginny wasn't dead already, he would make her suffer for her defiance over the past year.

—-

Professor Flitwick sealed the doors of the Great Hall with his magic as several students cowered near the far wall. He had been walking past a portrait when it warned him of the catastrophic danger that had entered the school and immediately ran towards the dining hall, where he knew some students would be finishing a late dinner. As he ran he sent a Patronus message to warn the Headmaster to seal the dormitories. He could only hope that no-one was out and about at this hour as anyone who was, was likely already dead.

The doors slammed under the impact of a massive body on the other side, and some students screamed. Flitwick was still struggling to keep the doors closed, praying reinforcements would come. None too soon, Dumbledore flamed into existence next to him, hand-delivered by his Phoenix.

"It's at the doors!" Flitwick yelled, keeping his wand trained at them. Dumbledore nodded, a grim expression on his face as he added his own magic to keep the doors shut.

But even his massive power could not keep them closed forever. As the door began to visibly break, Dumbledore cast a grey spell in the air, yelling, ' _Nimbus Venit!_ ' Instantly, a thick fog began to fill the room.

The next moment, the doors broke, and a grey, immense shape became visible through the fog.

"Clever, Dumbledore, very clever," a young voice spoke.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, as he silently pushed Flitwick towards the crying and otherwise afraid students behind them both, seeing Fawkes go with the half-goblin. "You seem to know my name, may I have yours?"

"Ever the polite one, eh, Professor?" Voldemort said, sounding amused. "Back when I was a student here, you called me Tom."

"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said, his voice flat.

"In the flesh, once again," Voldemort said. "We have a few minutes before the fog clears, and I can have my pet take care of everyone here. Or, do you want to surrender now and save your students' miserable lives?"

"You are a greater fool than I even thought, if you'd think I'll allow you to endanger another life, Tom," Dumbledore said. A small flash of flame behind him told him that Fawkes had flame-teleported the remaining students away, and he hoped Flitwick had left with them.

"A fool, am I? You forget one thing, Professor," Voldemort replied.

"And what is that?"

"My basilisk doesn't have to see you to kill you," the Dark Lord said, and Dumbledore had just enough time to cry out as the basilisk's massive jaws closed around him.

—-

"That was rather anticlimactic," Voldemort mused. "Close your eyes, my pet. I think it's time I call my followers here. With the old fool and his boy gone, Britain is mine."

The Dark Lord let out a cackle that turned into full laughter as he considered what now was in store for all the blood traitors. If only he had thought to use his pet the first time around, he would have saved so much time!


	8. It's Easier Than Pie

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 9 -_ _A Very Potter Disneyland. Team: Montrose Magpies._

 _CAPTAIN: Use the Disney film_ _Peter Pan._

 _Thanks to Shannon and FF for beta work, remaining errors are my own. Tinkerbell cameo dedicated to Liza._

* * *

 **It's Easier Than Pie**

Snape's hand trembled slightly as he opened the door to the Malfoys' foyer that was now serving as the Dark Lord's throne room. Voldemort had been in a good mood recently, despite Harry Potter having managed to escape the same manor only weeks prior with the two other brats that always stuck to him like glue, as well as the Lovegood girl and the old wand-maker.

"Ah, Severus, you're here," Voldemort said.

"Of course, my Lord. You summoned me," Snape replied, his eyes cast downwards in submission.

"As you know, Severus, Potter is still out there somewhere and I expect he will be returning to Hogwarts soon." Snape nodded.

"I am tired of having him escape my grasp, Severus. So to help you in capturing the boy, I thought it was high time I teach you a helpful trick. Do you remember last July?"

Snape nodded again, then, noticing the Dark Lord was waiting for an answer, added: "Did you mean your ability to fly, my Lord?"

Voldemort grinned. "Indeed. Come, Severus. We shall go to the garden."

The two dark wizards exited through the patio doors and stepped outside onto the manor grounds. The night was dark, so that Snape could barely see his Master in his dark robes as they walked away from the house.

"The trick to true wandless flight, Severus, is an easy one. The idea came to me over twenty years ago, but I never perfected the technique before Potter's Mudblood wife tricked me," Voldemort said as they walked. Snape bristled at the reference to his beloved Lily but was smart enough to hold his tongue.

"In one of the Mudblood houses we raided during that glorious war, they had a television playing an animated film. ' _Peter Pan_ ', it was called. Are you familiar with the story?"

Snape shook his head, then spoke, realizing his Lord could probably not see the gesture: "No, my Lord."

"It does not matter," Voldemort said. "While my Death Eaters had their fun with the Mudblood's mother and older sister, I watched a bit of the film instead. You know I don't care much for such carnal pleasures. There was this idiotic scene where the protagonist shakes a pet fairy about and causes some kind of dust to fall from its wings, then uses that dust to fly. Obviously that is pure fiction, but it got me thinking."

"I don't quite understand, my Lord," Snape said.

"I did not expect you to, Severus. Ah, we've arrived." Voldemort stopped near the small aviary in the garden that had once housed Narcissa Malfoy's songbirds. Now though, it enclosed something else, namely a small colony of fairies. The diminutive humanoid figures fluttered about carefree inside their cage, at least until they spied the watching wizards. Immediately the colony stilled, then attempted to fly as far away from the aviary's door as possible.

Snape looked from the fairies to his Lord, confused. "Fairies, my Lord? But I thought you said—"

"We're not going to use their 'dust', Severus. Watch." The Dark Lord took out the Elder Wand he had stolen from Dumbledore's grave and pointed it at the door, casting a silent opening spell. With a twist of his wand two fairies were pulled away from their group, one clad in a tiny green dress-like garment, and one in brown. Voldemort caught the one in green in his free hand and Snape, quick on the take, caught the other. Voldemort closed the aviary door with another careless wand wave.

"Pathetic little creatures are they not, Severus?" Voldemort said, smirking. He put his wand away, then brought the hand holding the tiny fairy captive close to his snake-like face. "Now this may be a little difficult at first. I found it's best if you do it as quickly as possible to avoid the mess," he said to his servant, then opened his mouth almost impossibly wide.

Snape watched on in horror as the Dark Lord stuffed the helpless fairy in his mouth and nearly had to throw up as he heard his jaws break the fairy's bones, it letting out a last painful cry as it died. Fighting the urge to retch, Snape watched on as the Dark Lord devoured the fairy raw.

"Well? Your turn, Snape. Time—and I—wait for no man," Voldemort said, smirking and seemingly not caring at all for his follower's visible discomfort.

"But… my Lord, I—" Snape struggled to say, then fell silent as he saw the Dark Lord effortlessly rise into the air.

"Pathetic," Voldemort scoffed. "You'll get used to the taste quick enough, Severus, and one dose can last at least six hours. Come, let me show you some tricks. ' _It's easier than pie, now you try,_ '" Voldemort sang mockingly, performing an airborne loop over his follower's head.

Grimacing, Snape closed his eyes even as he did as his Lord commanded, reminding himself mentally that despite their appearance, fairies were not humans. In fact, they were barely sentient and they—  
"Tastes like chicken, doesn't it?" Voldemort's voice was suddenly in his ear, far too close for comfort. With a yelp Snape jumped, then looked down, amazed, as his feet didn't reconnect with the ground.

"Well done, Severus. I suggest you keep a few fairies handy yourself from now on… the next time the Potter brat shows up, I won't accept his escape."

Two dark shades flew off into the night sky.


	9. I Want to See Hogwarts!

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 10 - Of Ghosts & Portraits. Team: Montrose Magpies._

 _CAPTAIN: Ariana Dumbledore (Portrait)_

 _Thanks to Shannon and FF for beta work, remaining errors are my own._

* * *

 **I Want to See Hogwarts**

Kendra Dumbledore was preparing some sandwiches for her boys. Today was September 1st and the train to Hogwarts would be leaving in a couple of hours. It was a happy day for Aberforth to join his big brother. Still, the house would be so empty without him and she would only have little Ariana running around.  
Her smile dropped a little. Ariana. Little Ariana was… special. She hardly spoke and for the longest time the Dumbledores had wondered if she even could, but even when she finally did, it sounded strange. Ariana also never looked anyone in the eyes and would often trail off in the middle of a conversation. Not that she started many of those, preferring to be alone and read or draw. Kendra had no idea what was wrong with her little girl, it wasn't as if she was a squib—Ariana had demonstrated accidental magic like all magical children, but still, she dreaded the day a Hogwarts letter would come. Ariana was simply not ready to use a wand, let alone interact with hundreds of other children.

A yell cut through the relative silence, coming from Aberforth's room.  
"Am not! I'll go with you!" That was Ariana's voice, yelling at the top of her lungs. Kendra sighed and put down the knife, she probably would have to calm her girl down now.  
"You can't go with us, Ari! You have to be eleven or older and… well… be a wizard or witch," Aberforth's voice answered.  
"I _am_ a witch! I want to see Hogwarts!"  
"Can you keep it down over there? I'm trying to study!" a new voice sounded through the house, her oldest, Albus. Studious, super-intelligent Albus.  
"I want Hogwarts!"  
"Squibs can't go to Hogwarts. Be a good little girl and be quiet, okay? I need to finish this Transfiguration essay and—" Albus was cut off by a loud wordless scream that only seemed to intensify in pitch as it went on. Kendra rushed towards the childrens' rooms and found her daughter hovering a foot from the floor, surrounded by a wind as she screamed her lungs out in frustration.  
"Ariana dear, hush, it's okay," Kendra said, moving to her child to embrace her. Aberforth gave her a pained look and then went to his brother's room to berate him for upsetting their sister so much.  
Ariana would not calm down enough for Kendra to feel confident enough to take her with them to King's Cross Station, so in the end she asked their neighbours, the Bagshots, to take her boys with them. It was a lonely and sad house after the two left, leaving behind promises to write.

When Ariana turned eleven, the dreaded Hogwarts letter came. With trembling hands Kendra took the letter from the owl, glancing through it to see that it was indeed a school invitation. But she knew Ariana could not go. Kendra took a quill and started writing a reply, when she realized to her shock that her daughter had come into the room and was looking longingly at the letter.  
"Hogwarts?" she asked, a hopeful tone in her voice.  
"Oh Ari… we talked about this, remember? I don't think that—" A bundle of energy rushed past her mother and grabbed it.  
"It's my Hogwarts letter! I can go! I can see Abe and Albus and—"  
"Ariana, give that here, please," Kendra said, trying to remain calm.  
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no!" Books started to rise from their shelves and began swirling around as well, hitting Kendra as she tried her best to calm her child down.  
"Ari! You're hurting mummy!" she cried out, finally stopping the rush of accidental magic. Kendra sat cradling her crying daughter for a long time after that.

Things came to a head again some years later, when Albus graduated Hogwarts summa cum laude. He would come home for one last time to pack his bags, then would leave to travel to Germany for a year of studies at Königsberg Magical Academy. Kendra was trying to explain this to Ariana.  
"No, Ari, Albus isn't going back to Hogwarts. He's an adult now and—"  
"Can I go with him?"  
"I don't think so, little one," Kendra said, smiling.  
"Okay. Then I'll go to Hogwarts with Abe."  
"Now Ari, we talked about this, you can't—"  
"I want Hogwarts! I want, I want, I want!"  
"Ariana Dumbledore! Calm down!"  
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Ariana's accidental magic began to lift items in the air as she got more and more frustrated. Unable to get close enough to her daughter, Kendra pulled her wand to try and diffuse the situation. Ariana suddenly made a grab for her mother's wand and somehow the clash of accidental magic and the beginning of a spell caused a backlash. An explosion followed.  
When Albus arrived home hours later he found a wall had been blown apart, his mother was lying dead on the floor, and Ariana was crying hysterically still holding half of the destroyed wand.

Ariana stopped talking almost completely after that and Albus didn't even let her go into the village any longer. Most people believed she had died with her mother in the accident and he was happy to let them think so. And so things might have remained had it not been for Albus' friend, Gellert.  
Ariana didn't like the German boy and shied away from him whenever he was over. She wasn't that interested in his and Albus' plans anyway, there were _so_ many colours drifting on the winds to seek out instead… oh. Albus took her hand and forced her to look at him.  
"Ariana. We are going to Germany soon and you're coming with us."  
"Not Germany. Hogwarts," Ariana said.  
"No, Ari. Hogwarts is the past; Königsberg is the future. Pack your things, okay?" The door slammed open and Aberforth was there, looking angry. Ariana shied away to the wall, not wanting to be in the middle of her brothers fighting again. She'd had enough of that ever since her mother… ever since her mother fell asleep. Now Gellert showed up and there were three boys yelling and waving their wands at each other… Ariana felt she had to do something and she rushed towards them, trying to get them to stop.  
A flash of light left one of the three wands and hit her in the head.

The next time Ariana became aware of things around her, everything was different. Aberforth was older and she was looking down at him from her frame. Her portrait frame. Ariana wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew for a fact she was a portrait now. Aberforth spoke with her regularly and did his best to keep her involved. Ariana paid him back by smiling and blowing soap bubbles whenever he looked her way.

It took a long time for Albus to reappear before her. One day he walked into Aberforth's bar and simply sat down at the counter, not even seeing her. Aberforth was not happy with his visitor and they began yelling at each other, so Ariana ignored their conversation until she heard Aberforth say her name.  
"—take Ariana to your school!"  
"Now Abe, you know I can't do that. Our dear little sister is long gone and—"  
"Blind fool. Look up and to your right then!"  
Ariana caught Albus' eyes and winked.  
"A portrait… you had a portrait made? Without me?"  
"Of course without you, you bastard! You and your boyfriend murdered her! But I'll forgive you under one condition. Take her to Hogwarts."  
"Ah, Aberforth. You ask such a simple thing, yet it is not as easy as you may think. For you see, I—"  
"Get out of my bar! Get out of my life, you meddling bastard!"  
Ariana watched on sadly as the two brothers pulled wands on each other again, ending with Aberforth being transformed into a goat and Albus sporting three extra legs and a broken nose in a face full of boils.  
He didn't return after that.

Many, many years later, Aberforth had grown old and even more bitter, but Ariana still smiled for her brother. Then one day he came to her with a request.  
"Ariana, I need to do something. Hogwarts is being run by that bastard of a Dark Lord's followers and they're torturing the children. I know they found a place to hide, but they need supplies. There is a secret passage to their hiding spot, but I need a guardian. Could you… could you help us?"  
Ariana nodded. Of course she would help out. Aberforth cast some spells on her frame and from then on occasionally she would open up the passage, allowing goods and people to go back and forth.

Months after that, Aberforth came back to his bar looking bloody and tired. "We won, Ariana! The Dark Tosser is dead!" Ariana smiled, not really knowing or caring what happened. As long as Aberforth was happy, so was she. Over the next few weeks a lot of people came to Aberforth, some sleeping in the bar, as she overheard the school was being rebuilt. Then it all calmed down and Aberforth came to her with another request.  
"Ariana, I'm going to put you to sleep now, while we move your portrait, okay? You've been a great little sister and a good friend and you've earned a reward."  
Ariana nodded and mimed falling asleep, causing a small chuckle in her brother. A spell left his wand and all went dark.  
Voices woke her from her slumber. She could feel she was on a new wall, but she could not see out as she was covered by a cloth, so she listened for now.  
"Behind this doorway will be a permanent memorial to the victims of the Blood Wars, so that none shall ever forget how bad things were. And to make sure the room would always be secure, we asked a special guardian to help out. Abe, would you do the honours?"  
Ariana's cloth covering was pulled away and she blinked as she saw the group of people before her. Children, no, students… students at a school. A huge smile appeared on her face and she let fall a tear of joy as she realized her dream had come true: she was finally at Hogwarts.


	10. Years to Build, Seconds to Break

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 11 - I Open At The Close. Team: Montrose Magpies.  
_ _CAPTAIN: Typical HP Trope: Ron the Death Eater  
_ _Thanks to Shannon and Lizzy for beta work, remaining errors are my own.  
_ _Wordcount (OpenOffice): 2783_

If 'Ron the Death Eater' doesn't give it away already: MAJOR Ron bashing ahead.  
This fic starts in ' _Deathly Hallows_ ' chapter 19, ' _The Silver Doe_ ', and borrows some dialogue from there.

* * *

 **Years to Build, Seconds to Break**

Harry was dying. Not for the first time, but this time he could blame no-one but himself. After all, it was his own stupid idea to follow the silver doe into the forest at night, and it was his own stupid idea to dive into a freezing lake to get Gryffindor's sword. He would die here, alone and forgotten, and no-one would ever know what happened, not even… Hermione!  
Bubbles of precious air escaped his mouth as he wordlessly screamed her name, turning it into a war-cry as unfamiliar strength found his weak and tired limbs. He kicked out wildly, struggling against the weight around his neck—the Horcrux—as well as the impossibly heavy sword he held in his hand as he fought his way back to the surface. He broke through the ice with impossible strength, choking and retching as he clawed his way back to the snow. He was colder than he had ever been in his life, but he was alive. Alive to fight on, alive to return to her. As he attempted to crawl back to his feet he heard footsteps around him, but they sounded too heavy to be hers. It had to be someone else, but with Hermione's wand carelessly discarded somewhere else and his arms still hurting he could do nothing to defend himself now. All he could hope for was for it to be a friend. A strong arm lifted the heavy chain of the Horcrux from around his neck and suddenly he could breathe again, the weight gone. Then, someone spoke.

"You're _mental_ , mate."  
The shock of suddenly hearing Ron again gave Harry the strength to pick himself up. There before him stood Ron, looking as fresh as ever, in fact, he looked as if he had had an excellent few weeks. Whereas Harry looked like death warmed up, even before diving into the lake, Ron had obviously not been missing a single meal lately. At once the pain of Ron leaving them, and the hurt Hermione had felt especially, came rushing into him even as he began to redress, still shivering from the cold.  
"What… what the hell are you doing here, Ron?"  
"Oh, is that how you greet your best mate? I came to rescue you, Harry. But you were already out of the ice before I could even cast a spell."  
"Y—you cast that doe?"  
"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!"  
"My Patronus is a stag."  
"Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers."  
Harry snorted. Typical Ron answer. He looked at the lake side again, not finding Hermione's wand.  
"Ron. Did you see the wand?"  
"This one?" Ron asked, a smirk on his face as he twirled it around. "It's Hermione's, isn't it? What happened to yours?"  
"Yes it is. Mine is gone. Hand it over, Ron."  
"Way I remember it, last time you and I met, you wanted to curse me, _mate_ ," Ron said. That smirk was still present on his face. "I think I'll hold on to it until I can give it back to my girl."  
 _My girl_. Those words hurt Harry even more than Ron's initial betrayal had, but for now he fought back the urge to snap at the ginger.  
"Fine. Doesn't matter, I got the sword. Hand over the Horcrux, Ron, so I can destroy it."  
"What, now?"  
"Yes now! Come on, Ron! I have the sword and—"  
"Not here, mate. Back at the tent. Don't you think Hermione should be there?"  
Harry frowned. He wanted to disagree, but Ron wasn't completely wrong here.  
"Okay. Follow me," said Harry.  
In surprisingly little time they made their way back to the tent. Harry was still cold so he entered the tent immediately, greeting the warmth as a long lost friend. Speaking of friends, Hermione was fast asleep, covered by her blankets, and she did not rouse until Harry had called her name several times.  
"Hermione! Ron is here!"  
Hermione woke up quickly at that, sitting up straight and looking at him.  
"Harry? What? Ron? What do you—"  
She looked past him and saw Ron, standing at the tent's entrance, smirking.  
"Hi, girlfriend."  
"You—complete— _arse_ —Ronald—Weasley!"  
Each word was accompanied by a punch. Ron backed away slightly, not looking too troubled by her assault.  
"Now now, is that any way to speak to your boyfriend?"  
"You unbelievable git! Harry, hand me my wand!"  
"He doesn't have it," Ron said, revealing her wand in his left hand even as he held out his own in his right. "Seems I hold all the cards, right?"  
"Give me back my wand!" Hermione screamed, lunging for Ron. Only a quickly cast ' _Protego!_ ' stopped her from reaching him, the invisible shield forcing her back and on the floor. Caught in the middle between rage and grief, Hermione regained her balance, crawling forward a bit on her hands and knees and she started to rise up again. A sudden statement stopped her in her tracks, though.  
"That's a good position for you, _girlfriend._ You should be in it more often."  
"Ron! What are you saying?" asked Harry.  
"Keep out of it, _mate_ ," Ron snarled back. "This is between my lovely girlfriend and me."  
"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" yelled Hermione, back on her feet and looking furious. "You—you come back after weeks— _weeks_ —and you don't even _apologize_ and you think it's fine to joke around?"  
"Who said I'm joking? I'm no longer the third wheel that got abandoned by his girlfriend a few weeks ago. I could have handed you over to _him_ as well, you know," Ron said, feeling confident behind his shield.  
"What are you saying, mate?" asked Harry.  
"Nothing you need to be concerned about, _mate_ ," Ron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Step away from Hermione, she was promised to me."  
"Promised to you? By whom?" Hermione demanded.  
"Who else? The Dark Lord, my Master. You'd know him better as Voldemort."

The Sneakoscope on the table in the tent lit up and began to spin as Harry and Hermione looked at their—former?—friend with shock. Behind Ron the tent flap opened and two men stepped in, wearing the dark robes of Voldemort's followers. To his horror, Harry recognised one of them: Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf and mass murderer.  
"About time, Weasley. The Dark Lord was becoming restless, and you know how he gets then," Greyback's growling voice stated.  
"I have their wand, and the Lord's item as well," Ron said. "Watch out for Potter, he is hiding a sword behind his back."  
"You traitor!" Hermione screamed, lunging forward again only to be forcibly slammed back by a vicious back-hand from Greyback.  
"Know your place, Mudblood! Scabior, take Potter's sword and force him on his knees. I want to see him bow before me."  
The man called Scabior walked around Greyback and Ron towards the two betrayed Gryffindors. Hermione was holding her stinging cheek as she silently cried and Harry was considering his options.  
"You didn't have to hurt her, Greyback," Ron said.  
"If the Mudblood makes a move for me one more time I'll do more than hurt her," Greyback said, his voice full of malice. "What's the hold-up, Scabior?"  
"Sword, now, or I hurt your little friend," Scabior said.  
Reluctantly Harry handed over the sword. The next thing he knew he was stunned, and everything went black.

Harry woke up to find himself tied to a chair. As he groggily raised his head he found himself facing a sight he had last seen in his nightmares… "Voldemort."  
"In the flesh," Voldemort said. "How nice of you to join us, Harry Potter."  
Voldemort was seated in an actual throne, leaning back slightly. He rose from his seat and stepped closer. Harry winced as he reached out for his scar, touching it with a pale and thin finger. It hurt, just like it had had in previous years, and he forced his mouth shut to keep from screaming.  
"I was not expecting it to be this… easy. What a surprise, that a blood traitor would succeed where my truest followers could not. Speaking of… Weasley!"  
Harry's eyes spelled murder as his peripheral vision caught sight of his once best friend moving forward. Ron was clad in Death Eater robes except for the silver mask, instead he wore a smug grin that would not be out of place on Malfoy.  
"Traitor!" Harry yelled. "How could you? What did you do with Hermione?"  
"Tell him," Voldemort prompted. "I'm sure he's… dying to know. Besides, it will be entertaining."  
"As you wish, my Lord," Ron said. Harry growled at the sycophantic grovelling.  
"To answer your last question first: Hermione is a little tied up right now. She isn't all that happy with me for some reason," Ron said to the laughter of several others in the room Harry could not see—he assumed they were Death Eaters. As Ron got closer to Harry he could see some scratches below the ginger's eye.  
"Hope she gave those to you, traitor!"  
"She did, and she'll pay for it for soon enough."  
"You touch one hair on her head and—"  
"I'll do more than touch her head, mate," Ron interjected. "In fact, I'll—"  
"Weasley. We're waiting," Voldemort's nasally voice stopped him. Ron swallowed, paling a little.  
"After you forced me to leave and stole Hermione from me, I—"  
"You chose to leave, bastard! She chose to stay with me and—" Harry's interruption was cut off as quickly as it started by a wave from the Dark Lord's wand, and he realized he had been silenced.  
"After you forced me to leave I wanted to go the Burrow, but I knew Mum and Dad would not understand," Ron continued. "So I decided to go to the twins' store instead. Unfortunately someone saw through my disguise, and I was intercepted before I even made through the Leaky Cauldron's portal."  
Harry shook his head at Ron's idiocy. Of all the places in Wizarding Britain to hide, he had chosen the busiest shopping street?  
Ron went on, undeterred. "So, yeah. I was in a Ministry holding cell before I knew what happened, just my luck, eh? Anyway, as I sat there waiting to be deported to Azkaban or something my brother came to rescue me. Percy, that is."  
Harry simply sat in his chair, the silencing spell still on him so he could not reply even if he wanted to.  
"Turns out, Perce isn't a bad guy at all. He pulled some strings and instead of a one-way ticket to Dementor Central, I got an invite to a meeting with my Lord. Yeah, that was a shock, I tell you. Thing is, I was hungry, you see, mate? So I blurted out… erm..."  
"Quite a surprise for me," Voldemort said. Harry looked past Ron to the Dark Lord, who had retaken his seat in his throne. "Amusing, even. Tell him, Weasley."  
"Ah… yes. I believe my exact words were, 'Oi! Snake face! Dunno why I am here, but where's the food?' And then—Aaaaargh!"  
" _Crucio._ " Voldemort almost absent-mindedly cast the spell on his follower, holding it for a full minute before he let Ron drop to the ground, still twitching.  
"I thought I'd add a little authenticity to the retelling. Although, at our first meeting young Weasley had to suffer my displeasure for a while longer, right until he passed out," Voldemort said. His eyes flared red, full of malice. Ron was still twitching on the floor. Harry felt some satisfaction in seeing the traitor suffer.  
"Seems Weasley is a little out of it, so I'll continue the story for him. To cut past all the irrelevance, Weasley begged for his life once he was revived, offering up you in return. Needless to say, I was positively _delighted_ to have his assistance. Just as Weasley was happy to have access to warm food and a good bed as he waited for that toy of Dumbledore's to reveal your location to him."  
"Ooooh… it hurts," Ron whimpered.  
"You're lucky your Lord is in a good mood, Weasley. Enough entertainment for now. Go train your pet Mudblood."  
Ron jumped to his feet, then bowed before Voldemort. "Thank you, my Lord. I will, my Lord."  
Harry wordlessly shouted abuse after him until Ron left his field of vision.  
"Take Potter to the dungeons. We have a celebration to prepare, I want his execution to be reported live," Voldemort ordered.

Harry struggled against his bindings but could do nothing to prevent the Death Eaters from taking him to a dungeon cell and shackle him to the wall. The only sound he heard was the dripping of water, somewhere. He could not have been hanging there for more than one hour before he got a visitor.  
"Snape," Harry simply said.  
"You absolute dunderhead. Do you have any idea how many plans you ruined by letting yourself get caught?" Snape said in a soft voice, taking out his wand.  
"Are you here to kill me?"  
"Kill you? Why—Potter, don't be an idiot. I'm letting you go free. The Dark Lord is out, your guards are stunned, and I've got the sword for you. You just make your way out without being seen."  
"Since when are you on my side?" Harry asked, suspicion in his voice. Snape glared at him as he cut the chains around Harry's wrists, allowing the young wizard to drop to the ground.  
"Enough with the questions! Leave, quickly. I've cleared a path for you to the back door, but it won't stay free for long."  
"I'm not leaving without Hermione. Or the Horcrux."  
"Gryffindors," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Fine, then. Take your sword and follow me, quickly."  
Harry took the sword from Snape's hands, then silently they walked up the stairs, past sleeping guards (Scabior among them), and up another set of stairs.  
"These are Ron's rooms," Snape said, stopping by a door. "What you seek will be in here. Give me a minute to disappear, then it's up to you and your blasted luck."  
"Snape? I don't know why you're doing this, but… thanks," Harry said.  
With a sighed " _Potter_ " and a scowl, Snape seemed to slink into the shadows once more.

Harry took a deep breath and then kicked in the door, rushing in with his sword in hand. "Let Hermione go you—"  
"Oh good, you're here," his best friend said in a calm voice. She was standing over the unconscious—naked—form of Ron, holding his wand as she kicked his privates again and again. Her clothing looked torn in places, but she looked to be in one piece.  
"Hermione? I thought that he—"  
"I kneed him in his privates the moment he tried to… remove my clothing, then stunned him with his own wand. The moron decided to untie me after he stripped himself," Hermione spat.  
"Hermione, I was so worried you—"  
"Harry, not now. The Horcrux is somewhere in here; _Weasley_ was gloating to me about how he intended to present his Master with it at your—at your execution."  
"Are… are you okay?"  
"Harry, it's sweet you're worried. To be honest I am probably in shock, as are you, but I'll have time to cry later. I am going to make sure he never tries to hurt another girl again. In the meantime, why don't you get my wand and the Horcrux."  
Harry walked past the unconscious traitor and then started to rummage through the cupboards to find the items. He winced as he heard the sound of _something_ being crushed under a pair of feet, then finally found both Hermione's wand and the necklace in Ron's underwear drawer.  
"Got them," he said, not wanting to look down on the floor. Hermione cast a silent cleaning charm on her shoes—Harry did his best not to think of why—and then they crept down the stairs and to the back exit.

x-x-x-x

They found their tent intact in the forest. Rushing to pack everything, they popped off to another location in record time, only then relaxing.  
"What now, Hermione?"  
"First, we destroy the Horcrux."  
"We can do that. Do you have any idea how Ro—"  
"How the traitor caught us? He told me, Harry. You-Know-Who trapped his name, so we just won't say it. Call him Tom, or Snake-face, or _any_ _thing_. Now, come and we'll take care of the Horcrux. Then, I'm going to need to cry for a long time, and you'd better be hugging me until I fall asleep, mister. After that… we'll figure something out."  
"Together, then."  
"Always, Harry."


	11. Merope Dreams

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 12 - Out Of The Ordinary. Team: Montrose Magpies._

 _CAPTAIN. Prompt chosen: Write a FLUFFY SLICE OF LIFE story about THE GAUNT FAMILY_

 _Thanks to Liza and FF for beta work and helping me make it a bit fluffy, remaining errors are my own._

 _A/N 2: Alternate (non-fluffy) ending in the copy in my 'More Ramblings' collection._

* * *

 **Merope Dreams**

Merope Gaunt hummed as she washed the dishes. They weren't a rich family but still they always got by. Marvolo, her father, had a small garden out back. It used to belong to his wife (Merope's mother) until she died. Merope really missed her mother and was happy Father had kept a picture. Sometimes Merope took it out and stared at it, telling her mother what had happened during the day.  
Her mother hadn't been a beauty with a receded chin, an upper palate that didn't fully close, and eyes that just would never focus. The defects were not really a surprise given that she and Father had been siblings, like their parents before them. And Merope knew she looked a lot like her parents, being no beauty herself.  
"It isss the family tradissshion," Father had told her once when Merope questioned why he had married his own sister. "We are dessscended from the great Sssalazar Ssslytherin himssself, we have to keep the Blood pure."  
Pure blood. Sometimes Merope wondered if it all was worth it. Sure, they were the Purest family in Britain, even others recognised that. But there hadn't been a Gaunt in Hogwarts in forever. Merope was little more than a Squib, hardly able to cast a successful _Lumos_ , and her brother Morfin was little better. He even refused to speak English most of the time, preferring the High Speech (as her father called Parseltongue).  
The last plate washed and dried, Merope put it back in the cupboard and dried her hands before hanging up the towel.  
"I did the dishes, may I go out now, Father?"  
"Out? Why out? What'sss wrong with inssside?" Her father's voice came from further into the shack.  
"No reason, Father. I just want to catch some fresh air. Maybe pick some flowers for the table."  
"Bah. Be off, girl, but be back before it turnssss dark. If I have to sssend Morfin after you, you got a beating coming."  
"I won't be," Merope said quickly. Marvolo scoffed and picked up his newspaper again, ignoring her.

Taking her embroidery box with her, Merope couldn't get away from the shack fast enough. As usual, the grounds were infested with snakes of all kinds. Probably summoned by her brother. Morfin tended to speak to them and give them orders, and while Merope could speak Parseltongue, they were usually unfriendly to her as if they could sense her fear. A fear that was well grounded because Morfin often sent his snakes after her whenever he felt slighted by something she did.  
Passing through the natural gate formed by the old tree trunks, Merope finally encountered daylight as she walked onto the unpaved road that led past it. She knew a nice flower field a little way off where she could pick some flowers or work on her clothes a little.  
When she was six, her mother had taught her all the little secret stitches and other tricks to make individual pieces of cloth into a nice shawl, a vest, or even a dress. And when her mother had gone ill and was taken away to St. Mungo's, never to return home, Merope inherited her embroidery box and all the little pieces of cloth she had kept. Merope didn't have a wand and had never been taught to cast spells so normally it would be a problem to work outside of her home, but the box was spelled to make everything put in it tiny and nearly weightless. Therefore she could work on her skills whenever and whereever she had some free time, like now.  
Her current project was a dress, a proper one, like she had seen the girls in the village wear. Maybe if she was a good girl until the spring festival, her Father would allow her to go and dance with the others. And maybe, just maybe, she could catch the eye of that handsome dark haired boy she sometimes saw ride past her home.

For a while Merope worked on her dress, occasionally picking a flower when she wanted to take a break. The shack would look a little nicer with them, after all. Not that they'd last long in the dark, but every little bit helped.  
Finally her patience was rewarded as she heard a horse come up the path. Quickly, she put away her embroidery, brushed down her beaten dress, and tried to force her hair into place a little, then sat down on a rock and started to make a daisy chain with some of the flowers she picked.  
She looked up just as the horse came close, seeing her secret crush.  
"H—Hi, Tom," she said in a soft voice.  
The rider passed by her, making no sign of having heard her.  
"Tom! Hello," Merope called.  
The horse stopped and Tom—Thomas Riddle, heir to the Riddle estate—looked over his shoulder at her. Merope winced a little at the look he gave her, acutely aware of the difference in class between them.  
"Did you say something, girl?"  
"Mer—Merope."  
"Mer what now?"  
"I—I'm Merope. Hi," she said, flushing.  
"How unfortunate for you," she overheard Tom murmuring.  
"Thomas Riddle. Well, Merope, I am rather busy now. Did you need something?"  
"I just, wanted, to say, erm, hi?"  
"Well, you did. Good day to you, miss," Tom said, turning around and riding on.

Merope's heart was pounding in her chest with such intensity she almost felt as if it would jump out. ' _He looked at me, he called me by my name! Oh, Mother, if only you could see me now… this is the best day of my life!'_  
Slipping down the rock a little, Merope rested in the field, looking up at the sky. How could such a perfect day possibly end? She looked at the sun and smiled; she had a while yet before she had to go home. All the time to take a nap and dream of her beautiful Tom.

A singing bird woke her from her nap, and Merope started to walk back home, smiling all the way. Heavy snores told her Father was also taking a nap, so she worked in silence as she decorated the family table with a small bouquet of wildflowers, using a mug as a vase.  
Morfin was still out, doing Merlin knows what, but that meant she had all the time she needed to relax a little. She put her embroidery box back near her bed and then silently began to cut vegetables for dinner.

Morfin showed up when she was nearly finished, carrying two hares over his shoulder. The slam of the door woke their father.  
" _Good hunt, the sssnakes caught them easssily for usss,_ " Morfin informed them.  
"Looksss like meat isss on the menu," Marvolo said, happy.  
Merope beamed at her brother. For all the trouble he sometimes caused for her, at times like this, she truly loved her family.

The hares skinned, cooked, and served, Merope sat down at the table at last. Her brother and father were already waiting for the food.  
" _What'sss that?_ " Morfin asked, reaching for the vase.  
"Leave it. It looksss good," Father stopped him. "Thank you for the meat, ssson, and thank you for the dinner and flowersss, daughter. It'sss good to be together like thisss."  
' _A compliment by Father as well as actually talking to Tom? If I were to die today, I'd die happy,_ ' Merope thought, smiling all the way through dinner.


	12. Help with the OWL

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 13 -_ _Real Randomness. Team: Montrose Magpies._

 _SEEKER reserve. Prompt chosen: Evan Rosier doing Owls_

 _Unbeta'd_

* * *

 **Help with the OWL**

Evan wasn't _that_ worried about his O.W.L.s. He knew he had it in him, being near the top of his fifth year Slytherin class. He had to be, to live up to the reputation of his father and his mentor, Lord Voldemort.

An Acceptable or higher in all subjects, or he didn't even have to worry about his next school year: his father had told him in no unclear words that if Evan failed any of his subjects, he would be pulled from school to get some hands-on training from Lord Voldemort himself.

Given how often the summer trainings had ended with Evan bleeding or unconscious, he was not exactly looking forward to that.  
'Focus, Evan, focus,' he reminded himself. Just two more hours before the OWL he was least certain about, Transfiguration. Professor Dumbledore and Evan did not exactly get along, his teacher made no secret of his dislike for Slytherins. The Common Room was full of stories of how Dumbledore would deduct points for even the slightest thing, just sneering at a hopeless Hufflepuff—as if there was any other kind!—would be enough to cost you ten House Points if Professor Dumbledore caught you doing so. And Headmaster Dippet went along with all of this. One more reason everyone was worried about Dippet's retirement, Dumbledore was most likely to take over, and that promised little good for anyone in the house of silver and green.

"You about ready, Ev?" Morty Wilkes, Evan's best friend, asked him.  
"I guess. Just hope it won't be something living to metal, you know I don't have that down."  
"Ah, don't worry. They won't pick that, most metal to living is N.E.W.T. stuff. And if it gets down to it, maybe you can fake it, you know? Aim for wood with a metallic sheen."  
Evan scoffed. "Morty, you're an idiot. Dumbledore would see right through that!"  
"But Dumbledore won't be there, Ev. Did you forget? You'll be examined by one of those old dodgers from the Ministry, and we all know how useless they are."  
Evan grinned. "You're right, I did forget… okay. Wow. That actually cheered me up some. Guess you're not as useless as I thought, Morty!"  
"Screw you too, mate," Morty said, laughing. "On a more serious note, what about after?"  
"After the O.W.L.s? Hogsmeade, I guess. Some Butterbeer and maybe Tricia Greengrass will be in for a victory snog…"  
"Not that, although Trish is a fine bird, can't blame you for that," Morty commented. "I mean, are you going to train with _him_ again this summer?"  
Evan paled a little. "It's, it's not really up to me, is it? You know my father, he would kill me if I said 'no' to the Lord. If _he_ didn't beat him to it, that is."  
"Point. Okay… one hour left. Want me to quiz you?"

Evan nibbled on the end of his quill, staring at the parchment in front of him as if that would make the answers to his O.W.L. appear. All of fifth year was in the Great Hall, the House tables shoved off to the side and replaced by a series of desks. Silencing spells had been placed over the students and some of the Professors patrolled the aisles, to make sure no-one was cheating. Unfortunately, in Evan's case, he had hoped he could get some hints from Morty.  
The only sound, other than the light murmur of a hushed conversation between Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore at the High Table, was the occasional opening of the doors, when a new student would be called forth for his practical. They were going by alphabetical order so Evan knew it would take some time before they got to him, hopefully all the time he needed to at least get through this infuriating questions.  
' _In solid to liquid transfigurations, should the wand movement usually include an upward, or a downward swing? Explain and give examples.'_

How exactly was he supposed to know that? Evan scrunched his face in trying to remember the various solid to liquid changes he had been doing over the past five years. _Was_ there even a pattern?  
Just as he thought he had the answer, the doors opened and a voice came through: "Rosier, Evans!"  
Evan cursed. That derailed his train of thought completely, and he almost had it! Grumbling to himself—unheard by anyone because of the silencing spells—he put his quill down and then walked to the back of the room, feeling the eyes of everyone on him.

Two men were inside the room when Evan entered, one stranger he did not know, and—to his relief—the other was Professor Slughorn, his Head of House.

"Ah, Mr. Rosier. Welcome to your Transfiguration practical," the examinator said as Evan entered. "My name is Mr. Trilby, from the Ministry Department for Education."  
"Pleasure," Evan mumbled.  
"You'll do fine, lad," Professor Slughorn said, beaming at him. Then, turning to Mr. Trilby, "Evan here is one of my best students. A fine young lad, he will go far, I tell you."  
"I am sure of it," Mr. Trilby said. "Well then, Mr. Rosier, can you turn this teacup into a mouse?"  
Evan effortlessly cast the spell. Another few simple tests followed, then Mr. Trilby interrupted him.  
"I'm sorry to ask, Professor Slughorn, but I forgot my bag near the front door. Could you be so kind as to get it for me?"  
"Not a problem at all," the friendly Potions Master said, leaving the room. As soon as he left, Mr. Trilby turned to face Evan again, his expression suddenly different.  
"The Dark Lord has high hopes for you, Evan," he said in a deeper voice.  
Evan stumbled back. "W—what?"  
Mr. Trilby moved his left sleeve up a little, revealing a dark snake tattoo. "We can hardly wait to properly welcome you in our organisation."  
As Professor Slughorn returned, apologetic at not finding Mr. Trilby's bag, Evan was still shocked.  
"He just cast a perfect water to silver transfiguration, I'm sorry you missed it," Mr. Trilby lied to Slughorn, "an Outstanding in practical, to be sure!"  
"Well done, my boy," Professor Slughorn said. "Now, back to the theory, eh?"

As Evan sat back down his mind was swimming. He had his O.W.L. now… but he was also once again indebted to the Dark Lord. His future would be… interesting.


	13. Damned

_A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 13 - Real Randomness. Team: Montrose Magpies._

 _CAPTAIN:_ _AU - What if Draco Malfoy had been the one to kill Albus Dumbledore at the end of HBP?_

 _Thanks to FF for beta work, remaining errors are my own._

* * *

 **Damned**

"Draco, please..."  
In his dream, Draco is not afraid as he faces his old headmaster, the man he had been taught to hate. A half-blood Muggle-lover, a traitor, the reason Slytherin House was hated by all the others.  
The man he had been ordered to kill.  
"Draco, please, don't. I knew another young man once who was on the path to darkness. Please, don't follow in his footsteps."  
"Shut up, old man! I have disarmed you! I have you at wand point! Where is your Potter now? Who can possibly protect you?"  
"Draco, just lower your wand and walk away. You don't need to do this."  
"But I want to! _Avada Kedavra!_ "  
In his dream, the bright green light hits Albus Dumbledore, and he disappears in a flash of green light. Draco is victorious; Draco is the Man Who Killed Dumbledore.  
The right-hand man of Lord Voldemort himself.

" _But that's not what happened, is it?"_ Arriving unwanted, the thought shatters the dream. Once again Draco stands in front of Dumbledore and fires the Killing Curse, but this time he sees it impact his headmaster on the chest. A look of sadness and disbelief is on his face as he flies back, over the edge of the roof, and then it is silent for a few seconds until Draco hears a sickening smack when the body hits the grounds. Draco feels bile rush up his throat; and he stumbles aside, then throws up. He is hardly aware of Professor Snape guiding him away, away from Hogwarts and the man he murdered.

Draco wakes up and hears screaming. It takes a moment before he realizes he was the one screaming, finding himself nearly drowning in his own sweat as he lies trembling in his bed.  
The hated voice comes before he calms down fully. _"Why did you kill me, Draco?"_  
Draco gnashes his teeth, forcing his breath to calm down. "I had to. I didn't want to, but—"  
 _"Why are you lying? You wanted to, you were so excited to kill me."_  
"No! Shut up! You're not real!" Draco cries out, placing his hands on his head and pressing hard. The hurt keeps the voice away, briefly.  
With a shaking hand, he reaches for his wand, casting a _Tempus_ spell. It is a quarter to ten, already.  
Draco rises from his bed and stumbles into the bath chamber. A visit to the toilet, a shower, and a shave later, he feels like a proper wizard again. Ready to face another day. Another day in the new world where Harry Potter killed Voldemort, and the Malfoy name is worth less than mud.

"Morning, little dragon," his mother says, not looking up from her newspaper as Draco arrives in the kitchen. "Sleep well?"  
"Yes, Mum," Draco lies. "Slept like a log."  
His mother makes a reassuring _hmm_ sound, still reading the _Daily Prophet_. "Your breakfast is on the counter under a stasis charm, and I think there is some hot tea left."  
"Thanks, Mum."  
Draco is staring out of the window, munching his toast, when his mother speaks up again.  
"Do you think you could go out looking for a job, today?"  
Draco lets out a nearly inaudible groan. "I guess… I thought I'd try _Flourish and Blotts_ today."  
 _"As if they'd hire a murderer,"_ the voice returns.  
"Shut up," Draco whispers.  
"I'm sorry?" his mother asks, raising an eyebrow.  
"Nothing, Mum. I'll, I'll just go, then?"  
"Good luck, little dragon. Your father would be so proud of you," she says, rising to kiss him on the head.

Draco takes the floo to the Leaky Cauldron, then passes into the alley proper. His mother's parting words repeat in his head.  
 _"Your father would be so proud—"_ Draco doubts it. He knows Lucius Malfoy died believing his son to be a disappointment. What else would he think of a son who returns from Hogwarts, not victorious, but a broken mess who can't sleep? Draco was even there when Lord Voldemort killed his father, holding him under the Cruciatus until his heart stopped. He did nothing to save his father, just like—  
 _"Just like you murdered an unarmed man? Just like you now hear voices all the time? You're crazy, Draco. A crazy killer."_  
"Shut up, not now," Draco hisses.  
A young girl moves out of his way and rushes to her mother. Draco sees her look at him; he knows she recognises him from the newspapers, from the trials after the war. She pulls her daughter closer to her, away from him.  
 _"Everyone knows you are dangerous, see? You should not be out here,"_ the voice says.  
"Shut up! You're not real!" Draco cries out.  
 _"Not real? But I've been with you ever since you killed, Draco. Ever since you killed me."_  
"You're dead! Dead and buried! You have to leave me alone!"

"Sir? Are you all right?" Draco looks up bewildered, seeing the red robes of an Auror in front of him. He is sitting, or rather half leaning against a store front, a half circle of onlookers around him. How long was he sitting here?  
"Do you want to go to Saint Mungo's, sir?" the Auror asks, concern in his voice.  
Draco stands up, brushing the dust off his robes. "I'm, I'm fine. I just—"  
 _"I just went completely crazy in public. I'm a crazy murderer who should be in Azkaban,"_ the voice offers.  
"Shut up, please," Draco hisses.  
"Sir? I think you'd better come with us," the Auror says, placing his hand on Draco's left shoulder.  
"No, really, I'm fine. Thanks." Draco brushes the hand off and walks away, the small crowd parting to let him pass. He winces when he recognises Rita Skeeter in the crowd. Great, she'll be by later to collect another bribe in order to keep this episode out of the papers.

"How was it, Draco?" his mother asks when he returns.  
"They had no openings," he lies. "I'll try another store tomorrow."  
 _"And fail again. The only thing you can do is kill, and you can't even do that right,"_ the voice says.  
Draco breathes in sharply, then goes back to his room.  
As he sits in the darkness, the drapes still closed, he weeps. Why didn't he drop his wand way back then and spare Dumbledore?


	14. Remembrance

A/N: Written for the QLFC Finals Round 1—OTP chaining. Team: Montrose Magpies.

CAPTAIN: Use preceding poster's OTP (James/Lily) & use an epigraph AND an example of personification

Note: this takes place in an AU where Remus and Harry died in 1981 and the Potters lived.

* * *

 **Remembrance**

 _The memory of the righteous is blessed,_

 _But the name of the wicked will rot._

 _— Proverbs 10:7_

John pulled unhappily at his shirt collar, finally deciding to voice his complaint. "Mum, why do I have to wear this? It looks bad on me."

Lily sighed and walked over to him, reaching out to re-adjust his collar. "John, you look good in your formal robes. And you know why."

"Yeah, yeah, fifteenth anniversary of V-day and all. Don't see the big deal, really."

Lily stopped messing with his shirt and stood back up. D—Don't mess it up now. I'll go check on your father."

As she walked away, Rose swatted John on the head. "Nice going, dimwit. Did you have to upset her?"

"Rosey! Don't hit me," John whined, turning to face his older sister.

With John being thirteen to Rose's fourteen she still towered over him, his growth spurt still a bit away. For now at least, he never won whenever they fought.

"Do you even realize _why_ we're going, dimwit?" she asked.

"Don't call me that. And I know. It's for the Ministry celebration."

"It's to honour our dead brother, Johnny. You know? Harry?"

"Not like we ever knew him," John grumbled, letting out an annoyed 'Hey!' as Rose messed up his hair even more.

"Be good, little brother. Mum and Dad are having a hard enough time as it is. If you're nice, I'll tell you which of my dorm mates told me she thinks you're hot."

John grumbled an affirmation.

Just outside the room, James stood embracing his wife. "She's a good kid," he said, lovingly stroking his wife's hair.

"They both are. John is just in his wild phase."

"You think that's wild?" James snorted. "When I was his age, I was out wreaking havoc through the village left right and centre!"

"Yes, dear, but you were a little monster," Lily retorted. "Especially with your friends around you."

"Hey! That was just boys being boys."

"More like the vandals sacking Rome from what your mother told me," Lily quipped.

"Good times," James said. "Say, Lils, how about we head upstairs for a bit?"

"Keep it in your pants, mister," Lily said, laughing slightly then becoming more serious again. "We should go to the Ministry. Our esteemed Minister will be waiting for us, as will the press."

"Still can't believe he, of all people, was elected," James said. "But you're right, let's go."

The three Potters (sans Lily) stumbled slightly as they exited one of the Ministry's many Floo portals, James nearly bumping into another visitor.

"I guess it really is genetic," Lily laughed.

"It's the price we pay for being so exceptionally talented on a broom, Mum," John quipped.

"Hey, I can fly," Lily said.

"On a training broom, no higher than three feet," Rose countered.

"What is this, pick on Mum day?"

"Isn't that every day?" John said, darting out of swatting range and right into the red robes of an Auror.

"The Potters, right on time," the Auror in question said. "Go right on through; the Minister is waiting for you in the antechamber."

"Thank you, Proudfoot," James said, corralling the kids and his wife past the guards and into the quieter room. Quiet until the Minister saw the new arrivals.

"Prongs! Lils! Monsters!"

"Uncle Sirius!" the two monsters in question yelled, running towards him.

"Greetings, esteemed Minister, sir," James said. A smirk formed on his face.

"Aw Prongs, don't start, I never expected to be elected either. Who knew people would rather elect a dashing rogue, such as myself, than that mumbler Fudge?" Sirius said, pouting.

"We missed you lately, Siri," Lily said, walking over to give him a hug.

"I'll be by once things settle down a bit here at the loony bin," Sirius promised.

An aide came into the room. "Minister Black? It is time for your speech."

The room became sombre as the light seemed to drop. and everyone's mood turned more serious.

"Well, I guess it's time. Join me, will you?" Sirius said, pulling at the collar of his formal robes in a move much like John did before. Lily moved up almost instinctively and adjusted it, getting a small smile in thanks. Sirius steeled himself, then walked out of the door, the Potters following.

The assembled Wizarding elite and press were waiting in the main room in front of the ministerial dais as Sirius walked up to the podium, and the Potters took seats to the side. An older man was already sitting on the other side, looking both sad and tired.

"Thank you all for coming," Sirius started. "We are here to remember the end of the 'Blood War', fifteen years ago today. But it is not a simple matter of celebration for today also marks the death of two heroes. One adult wizard, who gave his life to protect a child, and the child in question, who was murdered in cold blood by a monster that lied to not just the Wizarding public in general, but even his own followers."

Lily let out a sob, and James patted her arm, trying to comfort her.

Sirius continued, "So today, let us remember not only the fall of the criminal Tom Riddle, _cursed be his name_ , but also the loss of Remus John Lupin—miss you, Moony—and my godson, Harry James Potter. It is long overdue, but the Wizengamot has finally decided to grant Remus Lupin the Order of Merlin, First Class. Lyall, would you accept it in lieu of your son?"

The older man—Remus' father—slowly rose to his feet, then walked up to Sirius and accepted the box with ribbon.

"Thank you, Siri—Minister. And thank you to the Wizengamot for honouring my son this way, despite everything."

One of the journalists raised his hand, obviously wanting to ask a question.

Sirius looked at him and said, "If your question is about Remus Lupin's lycanthropy, it will not be answered. That has been discussed at length."

The journalist sat back down.

Lyall went back to his seat, and Sirius addressed the crowd again, "To Harry James Potter, we are granting the Order of Merlin, Third Class. James, Lily, kids, would you accept it?"

The Potters slowly went to the front and after a nudge from Lily, James decided to say a few words.

"Thank you, Sirius, for honouring Harry in this way. May he be the last victim of blood prejudice, ever."

"I agree with that sentiment," Sirius said, allowing James to go back and seek comfort in Lily's arms, and those of his kids.

As Sirius talked on, fielding some questions from journalists, the Potters silently left the main room and took a Floo back home. They had no sooner arrived when John started whining: "Dad, I'm bored."

"Oh, John, not now," Lily said, sighing.

"It's okay, Lils. Rose, John, why don't you Floo to the Longbottoms? I'm sure Frank and Alice would love to see you, as would Neville and Dorothy."

That got an enthusiastic reaction and James and Lily shared a grin; they both knew how Rose had a crush on Neville. The kids left, leaving their parents alone.

"We have good kids, Lils," James said, hugging her.

"We do. Harry would've been a wonderful young man, too."

"He would've been. Love you."

"Love you back. Now kiss me, Potter."

And he did.


	15. Beta Pranking

A/N: Written for the QLFC Finals Round 2—Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Team: Montrose Magpies.

CAPTAIN: Comb-A-Chameleon

Also written for Hogwarts Assignment 5 Herbology Task #2: Write about a character who keeps on going despite numerous previous hardships.  
Extra Prompts: 3. (Word) crooked, 6. (Colour) cyanide

Set in fifth year just after the start of the school year.

* * *

 **Beta Pranking**

Hermione let out an exasperated huff as she ripped down the Weasley Brothers advertisement from the common-room notice board.  
"They are the limit. We'll have to talk to them, Ron," she said.  
Ron didn't even look at her as he asked, "Why?"  
"We're prefects! And they're _your_ brothers, Ron!"  
"So? I don't mind. Go talk to them for all I care," Ron scoffed and walked out of the common-room.  
Hermione glared after him, then spotted Harry coming towards the notice board. "Harry! Come, we're going to have to talk some sense in those ginger menaces."  
"What? Why me?" Harry asked, bewildered.  
"Harry! Come!" Hermione all but ordered, already stomping towards the boys' stairs. Harry followed, his shoulders stooped.  
"Fred and George! You need to stop!" Hermione yelled as she swung open the door to their bedroom. The two gingers in question were huddled over one of their trunks but looked up immediately at the fifth year students who had invaded their room.  
"Why if it isn't Miss Prefect and her boyfriend," Fred said.  
"How about a knock next time? We could've been immodest," George added.  
"We're not dating, and you always are," Hermione dead-panned. "But that's not the issue. You, you can't just enlist testers!"  
"Oh, is that what it is about?" Fred asked. "Why ever not?"  
"It's against the rules!" Hermione all but yelled in their faces. "And as a prefect I—"  
"Hear that, brother mine? Miss Hermione is a Percy," George said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "So, 'Miss Percy'—"  
"Prefect," Hermione said through clenched teeth.  
"That's what I said," George continued unfazed. "So, what exactly is wrong with that? We need testers for our products, and some firsties can earn a few Knuts by helping us."  
"You can't risk them like that!" Hermione yelled. "I won't allow it and neither will the other prefects!"  
"We do need testers, though," said Fred. "If we can't use firsties, are you volunteering?"  
"What? Me?" Harry asked. Hermione whirled around to face him, having completely forgotten she had dragged him up there with him.  
George beamed at the idea. "Excellent idea, Harry-kins! You and 'Miss Percy' here—"  
"Prefect!" Hermione shrieked.  
"—are the perfect testers for our latest product," George continued. As he spoke Fred had ducked down into the trunk and surfaced holding two combs.  
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes proudly presents the Comb-a-Chameleon," the twins said in unison, as Fred handed a comb to the two younger students.  
"A comb? What does it do?" Harry asked.  
"Why Harry, it combs your hair," Fred said, grinning. Holding off a protest from either he added, "And that's not all it does, it also instantly changes your hair style. Just run it through your hair once and, insto-presto, a new look."  
Hermione and Harry looked at the combs quizzically, then Harry reached up and combed it through his hair. "Well? How do I look?" Harry asked.  
The twins were silent for a moment, until they started sniggering… Hermione on the other hand looked pale, then red, then furious. "Harry! You're bald!"  
"What?" Harry reached up, panicking as he could not find any hair. "What happened?"  
"Looks like we have a few bugs to iron out," Fred said.  
"Looks like it. Don't worry, Harry, it will grow back… for now we're late for breakfast," George added.  
Harry was too preoccupied by his missing hair to do anything and Hermione was still too shocked to respond as the twin menaces fled their bedroom.  
"Don't worry, Harry, I'll guide you to the Hospital Wing. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can help you," Hermione tried to placate her friend. "And when I find those twins, they'll wish they'd never been born!"  
They left the combs behind.

Madam Pomfrey couldn't help, so Harry had to sit through a lot of ridicule that day since Professors Snape and Umbridge refused to let him wear a hat, but at least his mortification helped keep his temper down and he managed to make it through the day without a detention. The Weasley twins were smart enough to stay out of sight of both of them until curfew, so it wasn't until the next morning that Hermione dragged Harry back up to their bedroom to confront them.  
"Fred! George! You owe Harry an apology!" she yelled as she threw open the door.  
"Good morning to you, too, Hermio-Percy," Fred said, yawning as he stretched, standing in the middle of the room.  
"What did you just call me?" Hermione asked, venom on her voice.  
"Never mind that lout," George interrupted, then looking Harry over, "See? It grew back, Harry. Apologies for the mishap, but that is why we needed testers."  
"It's okay," Harry mumbled.  
"Good man," George said, smiling. "See, Fred? Our fellow rule breaker has a good sense of humour."  
"Speaking of, try these ones, Har-har, Her-her," Fred said, picking up two new combs and throwing them to the pair.  
Harry reached up to grab his, but Hermione was not so alert and the comb hit her on the head, getting tangled in her unruly curls.  
"You two! I should report you to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione yelled, pulling the comb out of her hair.  
The three men in the room gazed at her.  
"What is it? Do you finally see reason?" Hermione demanded, her hands on her hips as she clenched the comb in her right one.  
"Blonde is not your colour, Hermione dear," Fred said, a crooked smile starting to form on his face.  
"Although corn-rows are cute, in a way," George added.  
"It's not that bad, I guess?" Harry added, earning an angry glare as Hermione stomped pass the trio and went inside the adjacent bathroom.  
"Good luck, Harry-kins," George said as he and Fred rushed past him, just as an enraged shriek was heard emanating from the other room. By the time the now blonde and very short-haired Hermione left the room she could only find Harry still standing there, and the poor guy got the full brunt of her frustration as she yelled about irresponsible pranksters.

Another annoying day of classes followed, but this time Hermione was the one being made fun of. Harry earned a detention from Professor Umbridge when she caught him pulling his wand on Malfoy after the Slytherin made a nasty comment to the former brunette, and Hermione refused to leave her bedroom after classes were over, so it was yet again the following morning before she dragged Harry over to confront the twins.  
She was already yelling before she pulled their door open: "Fred and George! You are in so much trouble you—"  
The reason she fell silent was that both twins were for once easy to tell apart… Fred had a cyanide Mohawk, whereas George was sporting a purple Pompadour.  
"Hermione! Harry! Just the duo we wanted to see," Fred said, beaming happily. "We ironed out the bugs, see? Here, you try!"  
He threw two new combs at the two. This time Hermione stepped out of the way, letting the one intended for her fall on the ground.  
"If you think even for one second we're dumb enough to use it, you've got another think coming," she scoffed at the two. "Right, Harry?"  
As she turned to face her friend, she face-palmed. Harry was in the process of combing his hair with the prank product.  
"Honestly, Harry?" she said, sighing. To her surprise though, when Harry pulled the comb out his hair, it had managed to tame his famously impossible hair into a neat, business-like haircut.  
"Well? How bad do I look?" Harry asked.  
"Not… not bad at all," Hermione said, disbelievingly. "You really look good, Harry… George! Fred! Explain!" The latter was aimed at the twins, who still stood there grinning.  
"It's easy, Prefectmione," George started, ignoring her glare. "The Comb-a-Chameleon will change the user's hair to a new hairstyle that they think looks good on them! It's really brilliant, even if I do say so myself."  
"Why thank you, George, I'm proud I thought of it," Fred added.  
"You mean, I thought of it," George.  
"No, I—"  
"Enough!" Hermione stopped them, stomping her foot for extra emphasis. "If it works, explain yourselves!" She indicated their haircuts with her right hand, still clutching the comb.  
"Easy, I like how it looks," said Fred.  
"You look classier than ever, brother," George agreed.  
Hermione face-palmed once more as the twins walked past them both, sporting ridiculous haircuts and wide grins.


End file.
